


The Dyad

by ladynerdmcpherson



Series: Finding the Balance [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Ben Solo Needs A Hug, Canon Rewrite, Drinking, Enemies to Lovers, Explicit Sexual Content, Forbidden Love, Force Bond (Star Wars), Hurt/Comfort, In the first chapter, Inappropriate Use of the Force, Kylo Ren Redemption, Kylo Ren is a Mess, Loss of Virginity, Multi, Mutual Pining, Post-Star Wars: The Last Jedi, Redeemed Ben Solo, Sexual Tension, Slow Burn, The Knights of Ren are Force Sensitive, Violence, Violence immediately, Vulnerability, ben solo's good boy sweater, like very slow burn, mentions of abuse, until it's not
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-07
Updated: 2020-07-27
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:14:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 16
Words: 87,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22154608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladynerdmcpherson/pseuds/ladynerdmcpherson
Summary: One year following the events of The Last Jedi, Rey and Kylo Ren find themselves reconnected through the Force, now more desperate than ever. As Rey fruitlessly attempts to communicate with Jedi past, she observes how unraveled Kylo has become by his mental isolation. Meanwhile Kylo has spent the past year distractedly leading the First Order while obsessively hunting for answers about his connection to Rey. As the dormant compassion they share for each other begins to creep to life again, all hell breaks loose around them. The new wave of destruction the war brings forces them to consider whether the dichotomy of light and dark is what truly achieves balance, and they realize that only together can they find a true middle ground. But as things go from bad to worse, can they mean to the galaxy what they mean to one another?
Relationships: Kylo Ren/Rey, Minor or Background Relationship(s), Rey & Ben Solo | Kylo Ren, Rey/Ben Solo, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Series: Finding the Balance [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1594681
Comments: 178
Kudos: 233





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is my first fic ever!  
> I've always been a casual fan when it comes to fandoms, then the sequel trilogy came out and I found myself wondering why I cared so much about the scenes between Rey and Ben. That's how I learned what shipping is.  
> So here I am! I read many incredible fics before deciding to join the site myself. Needless to say, so many of you writers here are so talented and inspirational.
> 
> I'm writing this as a sort of closure for myself for TROS. I really didn't hate it. It was great from the angle of pure entertainment, but as far as depth and plot and nuance went, it was a huge disappointment. Especially that ending. Oof. So I thought it was an okay movie. However, I am firmly in the TLJ was a masterpiece crowd, so this is my version of Episode IX playing off of those elements, just very adult and un-Disney. Also, fun bonus, I have post-canon rewrite ideas, so I figured why not make this part one of a little series?
> 
> I'm unsure how regular my update schedule will be, because the fic is a work in progress and I'm about to start my final semester of university, but I will try to get out one chapter a week, maybe two on a good week. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

It was raining. She doesn’t remember when it started, or why she wasn’t moving. She could move though, stepping one leg to the side to alleviate her panic. When had she started panicking?

The air was thick and grey with storm and smoke and the smell of burning rot. And the noises...the garbled groans caught in throats, the electric hum and crackle of a lightsaber.

She came to.

Snapping her head around with a sharp breath, she saw carnage. A dozen bodies strewn across the muddy earth, smoke rising from their fatal wounds. Blood, maybe, caked in the colorless muck.

Two still stood, facing the final kneeling figure, its back to her. All of them, clad completely in black. Indiscernible. She didn’t need to blink the rain out of her eyes to see the saber’s red glow. When she did manage, her breath seized up in her throat. It was an unstable red blade, with two small jets bisecting at the handle. She’d know it anywhere.

But the figure wielding the saber was not its owner. He was about as tall, but thin as a rail. The other standing figure seemed...impassive. Subdued, maybe. 

And the kneeling man, his mop of black hair soaked down onto his skull, dripping over the broad shoulders bearing torn fabric and seared skin. His shoulders rose and fell heavily, head hung in defeat.

A cracking whir split the air and the end of the unstable red blade was suddenly jutting from his back.

The scream that ripped through her body was hollowing. Wild. Inhuman. She could feel her vocal chords shredding. 

And her feet were moving. She broke into a dead sprint, right at the man now pulling the saber from Ben’s body with a sickly crackle. She had no weapon. She didn’t care. She didn’t need a weapon.

The offender was late to react. That, or he underestimated her. By the time he looked up, the now dormant lightsaber was tearing from his grasp straight into her expecting palm.

She leapt on him, hands pushing off his shoulders to leverage her legs around his waist, before she raised her arms above his head, the saber angled right at him. 

The terror didn’t consume his eyes until he looked upon her face. Then she blinded him. She tore through his face in jagged, unstable slashes and stabs. When it was nothing more than charred meat and bone, she drove the fiery blade down through his neck.

He fell.

She stood over him, wheezing, a grisly splatter of blood painting her front. She raised her head, slowly, to the other standing figure. Pure indifference remained painted on his indistinguishable face. Indifference. Worse than evil.

With a simple hurl, the blade impaled him through his chest. He didn’t even flinch. As he began to crumple, she called the blade back to her.

It retracted with a violent zip and the air was nothing more than static and rainfall. And a wheezing sound. Ben.

She bounded toward him on shaking legs, a lump rocketing up her throat.

“Ben,” she croaked, falling to her knees in front of him. “Ben stay with me, keep...stay here.”

His eyes were angled down, looking through her shoulder, as blood streamed from the burning hole in his chest. His mouth gaped slightly, letting weak, torn exhales fumble out.

“Ben,” her voice cracked. She took his face between surprisingly still hands and angled it up to look at her.

His eyes broke her heart. Confused, yet knowing the grimness of his situation, hurt and defeated, he looked at her.

A sob broke from her throat and the tears blurred her vision.

“Ben, please, stay with me, I’ll...I’ll get help, I’ll fix you myself just please, please don’t-“

His hand was on her wrist, heavy and too weak to really grip. It was gloveless.

“You,” his voice was barely a hoarse whisper. “You left. You left me there.”

There was no anger in what was left of his voice, no accusation, no malice. Only hurt.

“Why did...you leave me...there?”

“Please don’t,” she managed, stomach in knots.

“Why did you...why didn’t you kill me? When you...had the chance?”

Her brow furrowed in confusion.

“I would rather...” his eyes drifted to the left for a moment. Panic started nudging at the edge of her mind. This couldn’t be it, she had to get him help. She would carry him if she had to.

But his eyes focused back to her. The same sad, broken look filled them, under a layer of something new...something like contentment. His bare thumb was on her cheek, weakly wiping away the lingering tear.

“Why, Rey?”

She shot up with a yell. Not a scream. A sound of a heavy hit of panic, rattling her whole body down to the bones.

She sat stiff, chest rising and falling as her surroundings came back to her. The muffled sound of heavy rain assaulted the wall adjacent to her cot. The room was dim, the orange glow of the torches outside streaming through the wide cracks in her shelter while the steely blue of the sky poured through her window, resulting in a subtle violet wash.

Over the barrage of rain, she could hear familiar voices outside, shouted conversations from above and below her attempting to cut through the muffling precipitation.

It was just a dream.

Rey allowed her posture to slump as she sighed and rubbed her eyes. She’d never known good sleep, but recently her rest had been abnormally sporadic. It was attributed to the high stress scenario the Resistance had found itself in, on the run, moving through the shadows, while desperately trying to recruit members. They were steadily growing in numbers and enthusiasm, which made it even harder to remain hidden. And they could not risk being found, resulting in increasing moments of silent tension and stress.

But for her, there was more to the story than that. She hadn’t seen him since closing the door to the Falcon. She didn’t really expect to, considering Snoke was gone. The connection had to have died with him. Except she saw him as she was escaping. And the look on his face...

It didn’t matter. He’d made his choice.

Rey shook the thought from her mind, scooting to the edge of her cot to watch the downpour outside. Since leaving Jakku last year, she’d encountered cool, humid, rainy environments numerous times, but rain never ceased to fascinate her. It would take countless storms to lose their novelty after spending nearly fifteen years on a desert planet.

The curtain of precipitation was so thick she could hardly see the landscape surrounding, just the tall rich green and reddish brown of the massive trees they were nested in. To live among trees...those little fluffy people, Ewoks, she thought she heard, had known Leia. They had been incredible and discreet hosts, hiding the Resistance in their treehouses. 

Still, Rey was nervous.

Endor was a historically significant moon; the gravesite of Darth Vader himself, as well as the Empire. It seemed too public a place to hide. But Leia was confident. “We need allies right now,” she had assured Rey, “and this moon is their home. They know how and where to hide.”

She had been right, of course. The short furry natives had essentially buried the Millenium Falcon, as well as the two modest cruisers and the scrappy fleet of X-wings they’d gained, under nothing but canopy and groundcover in the advantage of a steeper topography.

And they were so kind, the Ewoks. A little forward, but kind. They had made up an entire hut for her. A small one, but one she had to herself. She didn’t think this was fair, but Leia had insisted. “You need the rest. You’re our Jedi.”

Rey wished she hadn’t recalled that recent memory as her anxiety spiked. _Our Jedi..._ the title was heavy, and she was buckling under its weight. If she could just talk to Luke, or if Ben had...no, no. She had to stop. It had been a year since she met his eyes, looking up at her from on his knees, sad and lost and out of place, mouth set in a line despite his trembling lips. A year since she’d glared back and shut the door. A year since she’d seen him at all, the Force leaving their emotions to brew individually. And she was better for it. Wasn’t she? He was so close, _so_ close to turning, until he banked hard at the last moment and went down the path she could not follow. Maybe that had been his plan all along, and he’d been gaslighting her... _stop._ She cut the thought off. Even if it were the truth, that possibility was still too painful and embarrassing to consider.

Since, she only saw him in dreams. No, mostly in nightmares; nightmares where he stalked her, mask on, advancing with his lightsaber, but consistently failed to deliver the fatal blow before she woke. Nightmares where he watched her die, where he either allowed it to or could not prevent it from happening. She could never quite tell which it was, but there was a sense of helplessness to the whole scene. Nightmares like the one she just awoke from, where she watched him die and all he could do was ask her why she left. These ones rattled her deeply, sinking into her bones and saturating themselves in her marrow until her harrowed awakening calmed and the world came back to her. There was just so much desperation and confusion, so many unknown pieces tied to no context. And he was always resigned to his fate, that sad acceptance swimming in his glazed-over eyes. She shivered at the recent nocturnal vision.

The nightmares didn’t chill her as much as the dreams did, though. They disturbed her sleep, they filled her head with images she never cared to see, fabricated or not, and they certainly fueled her frustration with the Force, but fear was as deep as it went.

The dreams began to chip away at other, stronger, more confusing feelings. Images of the two of them, alone, facing each other an arms length apart, as he raised an ungloved hand to touch her cheek. It was gentle yet prickly, as if her face had been numbed and was just coming to. She could hear herself breathing as he looked at her with soft eyes, the same way he did when they first discovered this connection, after her failed attempt to shoot him and his failed attempt to control her mind.

_Just you._

That was all. It never lasted longer than a few moments, but the sporadic nights Rey had that dream were followed by weeks of confusion and emotional turmoil that swam violently inside her until they dissipated. Then she’d have the dream again, reveling in at most four or five days with a calm mind. This dream was cruel that way. And for the number of times she’d had it, she had never once adjusted to the same tidal wave of emotions it brought her.

She shook her head a little too vigorously and rubbed her eyes. It was time to get up, she supposed. There were things to do.

Leia had taken over training Rey. She was never officially a Jedi despite training with her brother, but she offered a lifetime of experience in Force sensitivity, and Rey needed all the help she could get. It wore the older woman down though; with each day her steps slowed and the moments she took to collect herself grew longer and more frequent. She’d catch Rey looking at her, guilt plastered on her freckled face. Leia would always sigh, roll her eyes and wave her hand dismissively.

“Don’t you dare,” she demanded recently. “I’m old. You’re doing nothing to hurt me.”

Rey had laughed softly at the general’s frankness, but her insides still twisted with guilt. Leia’s ejection into open space had taken a toll on her. And after losing her partner, her brother, her son…

How much more could she take?

Rey dwelled on this as she changed into her usual white ensemble, lazily wrapping the lightweight outermost layer around her torso. She sighed heavily as she went about the process of fastening the leather bands of her belt and thigh strap. She really needed to get more sleep, she could not afford to be this exhausted.

It took her exactly one second to realize what a mistake the day’s outfit was. The moment she was out the door, her knowledge of the morning’s weather returned to her as she was immediately drenched. She groaned openly into the deluge, knowing the sound would disappear into that thick curtain of rain.

Maybe she should have grabbed the poncho.

She braced herself on the rope handles of the wobbly wooden bridge to the nearest tree, then worked her way up until she reached what was functioning as the operation headquarters.

It was, of course, the biggest hut the Ewoks had to offer, but it was still cramped for the majority taller members of the Resistance. High up in the canopy of the tree, the hut was unencumbered by a thick trunk driving through the middle. The round shelter did radiate around a thick, supporting branch, but enough support was provided from the pulleys and branches outside that it offered the most room. An oblong table had been carved to encircle that central pillar of a branch, framed by twelve logs functioning as stools. With all human-sized species seated at the table, it could really only comfortably fit nine or so.

Leia was already sitting there of course, sipping caf from a crudely sculpted clay mug. She offered Rey a warm smile when the younger woman entered, drenched and panting from her climb.

“You could have slept in, dear,” Leia started.

“I... _huh_ , I...I thought...I didn’t...didn’t want to keep you waiting,” Rey panted out.

“You need sleep, Rey, you’re no good to anyone like this,” Leia chided. Rey nodded absentmindedly, focused too closely on catching her breath and maintaining her composure. “And take the lift next time.”

“ _Lift?_ ”

Leia’s shoulders rose with a soft laugh, amused by Rey’s exhausted shock. “Yes, Rey, how do you think I got up here? Not climbing, don’t give me that credit.”

Rey nodded with an embarrassed smile, breathing finally beginning to settle.

“I was thinking you needed to meditate today anyway, you need to give your body a rest.”

Rey’s face scrunched up. “Are you sure? I have so far to go with forms.”

“Maybe, but you killed Snoke with, what, a few days of training with my brother?” Leia huffed a laugh. Rey managed a grin, but a small jolt of anger shot down her spine. She hadn’t corrected anyone when the story became known that she, the _last Jedi_ , had single handedly dispatched Snoke. If that was the story he wanted to spin, fine. She wouldn’t give him the chance of redemption in the eyes of her comrades if he provided the First Order with a reason to put a price on her head. “You’ve bested my son twice now as well.”

Rey snapped back to attention, eyes darting to meet the general’s. Her face was still etched in lighthearted amusement, but her eyes betrayed her.

“I suppose I have,” Rey murmured. It was silent for a moment, and the air became thick with words unspoken. Leia was on the edge of asking Rey a question, she could tell.

“Do you still see him?”

“Only in dreams,” Rey had spoken these very words to Luke about Ahch-To. She wondered if her recent dreams meant something the way her dreams of the island had. The idea unsettled her.

“I suppose that’s why you’re losing so much sleep,” the general pondered. “No connections? Through that bond?”

“Not since Crait,” Rey had confided in Leia about her strange bond with the older woman’s son almost immediately. She couldn’t confide in _him_ anymore, and Luke was no longer there to at least understand. She found out she preferred it this way, as Leia was much more the glass-half-full twin.

“Do you think it’s gone?”

Rey pondered this for a moment. It had been a year. It wasn’t Snoke’s doing. She didn’t know why she was still trying to convince herself it had died with him. That ship had sailed. But these dreams...there was a line that held fast, even if it was a thin thread.

“No. Something’s there. I don’t...I don’t feel _him,_ but I feel something.”

“Do you think he’s tried to reach you?”

“I don’t think that’s how it works.”

“Do you?” Leia’s voice became stern. Rey glanced back at her, caught off guard by the sudden change in her tone. “Do you think he’s tried?” Her voice wavered, just a hair. The abrupt steely demeanor was just a thin veil for concern. Not for fear her son might be listening in somehow, but for _her son._

“I truly can’t say,” Rey’s voice was barely above a whisper.

A deep sadness flashed across the general’s eyes, and was just as quickly replaced by understanding.

“Please be careful with yourself,” she concluded, touching Rey’s arm affectionately. “Let’s get started.”

She motioned to the door.

“Open it up and seat yourself right in the frame. I want you to be at the edge, and I need you to hear, smell, and feel the rain. Concentrate on that and then we’ll go deeper.”

Rey obeyed, settling gingerly in the doorway as the cool humidity enveloped her. The swirl of leafy green and ruddy russet was dotted with the orangey fire glow of the huts coming to life in the morning, all softened under the serene, stormy, silvery-blue wash of the rain. She closed her eyes and took the comforting taste of the humidity in with an audible inhale.

Exhale.

Repeat.

The living smell and weight of the rain began to weave itself into her veins and she felt weightless, cradled by the steady percussion of the downpour against hard trunks and the chiming taps each drop made against the leaves.

_Life._

She could feel the drops seeping into the soil, the endless roots of the redwood giants drinking their fill.

_Death and decay._

The rot of two root systems, growing too close and slowly suffocating each other.

_Which breathes new life._

The decomposition of old flora and fauna, fertilizing the soil and offering life to a new generation.

_A force._

She opened her eyes.

Everything moved and flowed around her, as she hovered in her meditative position in the middle of the tree community, the soil and ferns of the earth meters and meters below her. The rain carried her and washed into her with grace and companionship as loose leaves and stones orbited her levitating form.

“Perfect,” Leia’s voice was soft, now distanced by Rey’s travel through the air, but it carried through the wall of rain on a current of the Force. “Try to reach them again.”

Rey inhaled heavily, a sliver of anxiety spiking in her core. Her balance faltered, just a hair.

“Stay there,” Leia encouraged. “Hold on to that feeling. Let it carry you, carry through you. And in your own time, just try.”

Rey nodded once, shut her eyes, and turned her palms up on her knees. She felt the rain pool in her hands, and the symbiosis she had forged with the weather at the start of her practice grew. All sound began to fade, save for the percussion of the rain and the steady flow of her breath. She took slow, deliberate steps through the recently expanded library in her mind and reached for the history she had learned.

“Be with me,” she breathed. Only the buzz of anticipation responded. She needed to go deeper, to remember the details of these Jedi past. She needed their guidance. “Be with me…”

The memory of Luke’s cynical advice. His criticism of her willingness to go to the dark. His faith in the light of his father as a young Jedi.

“Be with me…”

The tragic brotherhood of Obi-Wan Kenobi and Anakin Skywalker. A master who could not prevent his Padawan from becoming Darth Vader. And Vader’s return to being Anakin as he sacrificed his life for Luke, his only son.

“Be with me…”

The unorthodox journey of Ahsoka Tano. The rejection of the Jedi Order and the path she took alone, truly neutral.

“Be with me…”

The dichotomy of dark and light. The pattern of radical back and forth it had created, generation after generation, repeating the same pattern of destruction. The struggle for balance, the failure to maintain it...then Rey felt a draw. Something in her chest pulled, and she felt the faintest glimmer of what could be a presence.

“ _Be with me…_ ”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The bond snaps to life...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, thank you for the positive response to chapter one!   
> Here, we'll get Ben's (still Kylo at this point) perspective. I will admit I am less proud of this chapter. I'm so excited to get to the meaty parts of the story, the slow build can be a little challenging to write sometimes. But the outline is complete and I'm excited to see this story through. Enjoy!

The hard, cold durasteel floor greeted him with a sucker punch to the right side. Kylo Ren, awakened already from the sensation of the fall, grunted at the dull pain already wading throughout his body.

A dream, again.

She had been there. The scavenger.  _ Rey. _

He indulged in her name for a fleeting moment before the throb of pain in his elbow reminded him of reality.

Just a dream.

She had been holding his face, looking panicked and confused and  _ crying _ . Really, truly crying. The most disturbing splatter of blood dashed her face and dirtied her white desert garments. And the edges of his vision were fuzzy…

He had been dying in this dream. And she cried for him. Perhaps she had killed him, he was already forgetting the details.

It wasn’t the first time he’d had it either, but he never remembered this dream as clearly as the others. The ones where he stalked her, the ones where she was close and he caressed her freckled cheek...the latter were always too short, too fleeting, and they ripped into his perpetually conflicted subconscious. The tear was deafening now that no unwelcome voice occupied his brain.

He resorted to quick fixes, slapping tape on the internal tear and stuffing his churning emotions about Rey into a bottle he stored in the recesses of his subconscious. If he piled on enough work, enough pursuit, enough training courses, he might even forget her for a couple hours.

It all came undone, of course, when he would dive headfirst into his research, day after day, trying to understand every possible thing he could about their strange connection through the Force. Then she absorbed into his mind all over again, seeping into his brain and his lungs and his blood, drowning him in a sea of need and uncertainty. Still, he would try in vain to busy himself with the daily operations of his vocation.

And it was time to do just that. Grabbing the edge of his bed for support, he peeled himself from the floor. He could feel the bruises beginning to blot his shoulder, hip, and elbow as he staggered to his feet.

The room was speckled in hues of charcoal and heather, shifting in the distant glow of the stars and the lights of the Star Destroyer. They danced lazily across his haphazard bed, pale grey sheets bundled chaotically from his tossing and turning. He didn’t sleep well anymore.

He never really had, he pondered as he meandered to his wall and slid a thick glass pane open. A black base sweater was pulled lazily from within the closet. The analysis of his sleeping patterns ran through his head as he took his time dressing. It was strange, the difference in his lack of sleep now versus then. His head had always been filled, running with threats and promises and unspeakable imagery,  _ constantly _ berating his mind. The voices did not sleep. After Snoke, after  _ her,  _ it was so silent. 

Too silent. 

It was a deep, desperate isolation that loomed over him. And when the threatening vastness of the peace could be ignored, could be  _ accepted, _ she would invade his dreams and suffocate his heart.

But he didn’t mind. Perhaps he was meant to go his whole life enduring some form of torment. At least he got to see her again, even if it wasn’t real.

Wasn’t it?

Kylo hesitated as he pulled his gloves on. He hadn’t  _ seen  _ her in the year since she’d closed the door on him, but something about these dreams were more than just dreams. It was more tangible somehow. Like the bond that connected them was barely a whisper, impossible to catch without explicit scrutiny.

Shaking the thought, he tugged each glove comfortably and stepped out of his quarters into the fluorescent lights of the ship’s halls.

He had updates to attend to, undoubtedly lead by his greatest irritant.

General Hux had always inspired his most impatient reactions. The man seemed to have a greater obsession with decimating the Resistance than any other member of the entire First Order. It was almost certainly due to his obnoxious loyalty to Snoke, the far more aggressive Supreme Leader.

Kylo and Hux had gone head to head countless times over the year as to how the former lead the First Order.

“You’re  _ soft, _ ” Hux had spat. “It’s because of your mother, isn’t it?”

“Don’t waste your breath,” Kylo’s voice had been even; a warning. Hux did not heed it.

“We haven’t done a damn thing, Ren!”

“We have the support of the Mid Rim now. We didn’t have that before.”

“ _ At what cost?!  _ It took credits and blood and sweat to eradicate that system of its slavery and colonization practices. And for  _ what? _ ”

“Support. Sit down, Hux.”

“We benefited from those practices. Snoke set them for a reason-”

“ _ I am not Snoke. _ ”

The general’s face changed. Only his eyes conveyed his hatred. “No, you certainly are not.”

There had been a thousand exchanges mirroring this; fury over the lack of military gusto and the quiet, unusual diplomacy that had taken its place. Instead, violence only spurred when diplomacy failed, or when Kylo sought his personal pursuits.

The hiss of the opening door pulled him away from the memory.

“Supreme Leader,” Hux sneered before Kylo even crossed the threshold. “So nice of you to finally join us.”

Kylo only nodded as he sunk formally into the chair at the head of the table across from the standing Hux. The ranking officers seated between them remained rigid, held still by the tension.

“As we have been discussing, we’ve received numerous reports of Resistance members in small groups across the system. They are increasing in number and frequency each day.”

The man paused, eyes fixed on Ren. He expected a response.

“And?”

That was all it took for Hux’s temper this morning.  _ “And?  _ They are growing, networking, likely gaining better garbage artillery than the garbage artillery they’ve been using  _ as we speak.  _ The Resistance is growing faster and faster each day because we have done  _ nothing  _ to interfere!”

Kylo studied the general for a moment, silently reveling in the way his face became closer in color to his hair.

“What measures have they taken against us?”

“Excuse me?”

He sighed. “What offensive measures have the Resistance taken against the First Order?”

Hux’s eyes narrowed coolly at the young leader’s insult to his comprehension.

“We have experienced no encounters with the Resistance in-”

“Then it’s a waste of time,” he interrupted as he stood. A vein in Hux’s forehead bulged.

“We are at  _ war  _ here, Ren. They will act, and right now we have every chance to wipe them from the galaxy before any of them could lift a finger against us. A waste of time,  _ really? _ Are you so blind?”

“We have made immense progress,” Kylo’s voice was laced with warning. “There are entire systems under our purview now and they  _ trust  _ us. We have forged loyalties. Loyalties which will back us wherever we go. Consider the progress of the Order and weigh it against chasing a crowd of rebels around the galaxy. They are not a priority.” He stepped away from his chair. “Unless you have any developments of genuine concern to report, I will be leaving. There are important issues to attend to.”

With a sharp edge in his final word, he turned on his heel and took a step toward the door.

“You’re delaying the inevitable to protect your mother and that  _ scavenger. _ ”

He stopped.

“Snoke was right,” Hux lowered his voice. “You have compas-”

_ Thud. _

Hux flew upward, back slamming into the ceiling before he crashed to the floor, face first, nose breaking with a sickly snap.

Kylo stomped out of the room to the sound of Hux’s gravelly, pained groan. He didn’t unclench his fist until he was halfway down the hall.

In truth, he was surprised he hadn’t broken any of the General’s bones sooner. Since the death of Snoke, Hux had grown bolder in his words against Ren. The resentment that had always brewed between them only festered in the wake of the Supremacy’s destruction. Kylo allowed it, finding a sort of catharsis in the way he and Hux could verbally spar, something he could never do with Snoke. It was the tiniest sliver of an outlet for the directionless storm of overwhelming and conflicted feelings tearing through his mind day after day.

But there were still clearly drawn lines. Hux pushed them, but only a couple of times over the standard year did he cross them. This morning made it three.

Kylo Ren was a quiet leader, occupied by his own pursuits, demanding nothing but efficiency. Each member of the First Order was expected to do their job and stay out of his way. It had transformed the Order into a machine that ran on a curt, distanced respect, rather than a sharp tool of fear. That tool would only be unsheathed in circumstances of failure to comply, thwarted defection, or mention of Rey.

It was an unspoken rule, but it was well understood throughout the First Order that any discussion of the last Jedi, if it reached the attention of the Supreme Leader, would result in grave consequences.

The only exception to this understanding was the definite knowledge of her whereabouts.

And for the third time in a year, Hux crossed that line.

Kylo sensed Hux knew the depths of his interest in Rey, and he supposed most of the First Order must suspect something similar, considering the weight of his reaction to the mere mention of her. But he wouldn’t hear of the rumors that she single handedly took down a trafficking ring on Taris. Or that she had been collecting Jedi and Sith artifacts around the Outer Rim. Or that the Resistance and its sympathizers seemed to fear her access to the dark side of the Force…

He couldn’t hear it.

It was too much.

So he let them believe whatever they wanted. They wouldn’t dare cross him over it.

He meandered back into his quarters, shuffling through the hazy grey of the room he slept in, before approaching a door at the far end of the chamber.

It parted with a slower, thicker, mechanical hiss than the standard doors throughout the _Steadfast_ , opening to a room of blazing white.

White floors, white panels, white podiums, all of a shining tile-like quality contrasted against the dark, fragile, and broken artifacts of Sith past. The atmosphere around him warped into something off-kilter as he stepped into the gallery, like he was suddenly being watched. He never got used to that feeling, despite the hours he spent in here, seeking strength and answers from the artifacts before turning to his books.

From a simple waist-high podium in the center of the room, the mask of his grandfather watched him as he made his way directly to the library.

It was tucked beyond the threshold of another door across the gallery. It slid open as he approached, revealing a chamber the polar opposite of the one he stood in now. Ancient, battered books and scrolls of yellowed parchment lined the cramped, dark grey shelves of each wall, a primitive, flame-like glow emanating from the handful of lamps mounted on eye-level shelves. A rectangular wooden table sat in the middle of the library, covered in the unorganized piles of his writing, pens and ink scattered about haphazardly. There was just enough space between the table and shelves for a single person to squeeze a lap around the room. Around the nook, more accurately.

Unclasping and dropping his cape to the floor, he sank into the practical wooden chair with a huff. Laid in front of him were his notes from the previous night, before he decided it was time to succumb to sleep and whichever dream would torment him.

Next to his barely coherent scribbles laid the book he had been studying, open to the page he left off.

Text and footnotes described accounts of rarities in the Force; transfer essence, which Kylo skimmed before determining that wasn’t what he was looking for. He flipped the page. Force storm, no... _ flip.  _

A loose scrap of parchment sat tucked into the binding of the spread, folded once. 

The room’s atmosphere was suddenly heavy. His eyes narrowed. The parchment seemed magnetic, and he felt an inexpiable urgency to examine it.

He tugged off his gloves before gingerly removing the old scrap and opening it.

There were a few scribbled Sith hieroglyphics, surrounded by ink smudges and scorch marks. The contact sent a low vibration through his hand, and he felt a pull stirring to life within his chest.

This is what he was looking for, he knew it.

Even though he could not read it.

Kylo scanned the strange symbols over and over again, knowing nothing would come to him. There had to be a book in this cramped library; a dictionary or a journal,  _ something  _ that would at least start to provide a translation. He stood from his chair with such gusto, it screeched across the floor before quickly colliding with the shelf behind him.

This was what he needed, he could feel it calling to him, trying desperately to provide him with answers. Nothing could get in his way in this moment. Not even the hum of the ship he didn’t notice had zipped into a vacuum.

He decided he should start with the scrolls. An ancient language would likely be recorded on ancient documentation.

His eyes darted around every wall on every shelf with a speed that started to make his head spin. The lack of organization in this library was his greatest regret regarding his quarters. Panic started to eat at the threads of his lucidity. He needed answers  _ now.  _ The feeling the parchment sent through him was so urgent, almost threatening...his heart rate accelerated as his brain strained to keep up with the rapid movements of his eyes.

He could reach out. He could see if something called to him, if the Force would lead him to exactly what he wanted. He felt it buzz through his core at the thought, encouraging him on.

_ Yes. _

He raised a palm to the eye-level shelf across from him.

_ “Be with me…” _

Absolutely everything stopped.

He went completely rigid for a single, tangible moment, before snapping his head around.

There, a mere foot away, was the closed door to the library. Just as it always was. Simple, grey durasteel. No sudden visitors.

Had he imagined it? His mind was swimming with thoughts of her the majority of his hours, both waking and sleeping. The idea that he could have hallucinated the soft lilt of her voice was highly probable, particularly in this anxiety ridden state.

Yet...he became aware of how silent it was. It was a specific brand of silence, one that had a sort of echo to it, despite the lack of absolutely any sound. 

Could this be happening again?

_ “Be with me…” _

Her voice was both in his ear and across the room.

She was here.

He turned fully, stepping toward the door. It opened without a sound.

There, meditatively floating in the middle of the stark white gallery, was Rey.

Her legs were crossed, palms facing up on her knees, eyes closed as she slowly rotated. The Resistance was certainly not hiding out on a desert or ice planet, she was drenched. Drops fell from her fingertips onto the white floors. He inhaled.  _ Rain.  _

Kylo’s eyes roamed over her slowly. She changed her hair. And her clothing. They were back to the same three buns and white desert garb she had donned the first time he saw her on Takonda, but now...she looked different. A little older, a little more weary . Just as dangerously captivating.

The rotating came to a halt when her body squared to face his, and he watched as her eyebrows raised over her closed lids and she let out a small gasp.

“You’re here.”

Her eyes opened.

For the first time in one year, Kylo Ren and Rey found themselves face to face, lightyears apart.

The look he received was not what he had expected. Eyes wide, lips parted, brows just subtly furrowed in shock...it was a face he’d seen before. Just not what he expected now.

At best he had expected unbridled fury; a venomous insult or a physical attack. Worst case scenario, he had expected tears. The same image of the pained, broken plea after he’d entreated her to join him.

_ Please, Ben. Don’t go this way. _

This was the greeting he’d feared. In the moments of the night before she plagued his dreams, he’d imagined how hard it would be to see that face should the Force connect them again. A reminder of all he’d done. A reminder of her loyalties. A reminder that the hope he clung to was nothing more than a pipe dream.

And here, now, her hazel eyes met his with a mix of shock, confusion, and  _ sorrow. _

Their eye contact held fast as her legs unraveled and she lowered herself gracefully to stand. In a moment, her features softened, the slight surprised gape of her lips becoming one of cautious vulnerability. Her eyes still betrayed some skepticism.

Kylo felt his heart had slowed to something steady. His hands twitched just a fraction at his sides as he felt an energy envelop them. The threads of the long dormant Force bond were weaving back together and their emotions, unwalled for months now, began to flow and mix together.

_ Fear. Concern. Relief. Anger. Betrayal. Anticipation. Regret. Sorrow. Regret. Paranoia. Regret. Regret. Regret. _

The throne room. The wreckage. His proposal.

_ Please. _

He broke the silence.

“I offered you my hand once. You wanted to take it. Why didn’t you?”

He saw himself through her eyes, gloved hand outstretched, eyes glossy, lower lip trembling. The slow, tentative reach of her hand toward his. The last minute careen to Luke’s blade and the tug of war that ensued.

Her mouth pressed into a line and she angled her chin up just a bit.

“You could’ve killed me. Why didn’t you?”

He recalled her, kneeling in front of him with hopeful eyes, his lightsaber angled toward her while Snoke mocked her for her failure. Snoke’s body slicing in half at his will. The lightsaber soaring to her hand as she stood, eyes boring into his with new trust and something he couldn’t quite place.

“You’ve been quiet,” he changed the subject after a moment.

Her expression narrowed a bit, as though she were considering how lightly she should tread in her response.

“So have you.”

“The Resistance has been quiet.”

“As has the First Order.”

His lips pressed into a line and he found he had crossed his arms at some point. A question started to form in his mouth, but he began to weigh the pros and cons of voicing it, wondering if it would set her off.

“Why didn’t this die with Snoke?” Rey broke the brief silence.

“He didn’t form it.”

She frowned. “Then what did?”

“I believe we did.”

Rey’s eyes narrowed in distrust.

“I don’t know how, or why. But since we met, this has existed.”

She scoffed.  _ “Met.” _

Kylo felt his impatience stir inside, begging his conscience for a platform. This wasn’t a subject to dwell on. “You’ve grown stronger. I can feel it.”

Her face contorted in bewilderment at his  _ audacity  _ change the subject. He didn’t probe for that thought, she projected it.  _ The audacity… _

“You  _ stalked  _ me through a forest and you probed my mind.”

“And you probed mine,” he rebutted immediately, voice even and impassive. “And since then there has been this connection.”

He could tell she knew he was right. He could also tell she wouldn’t admit to it.

“Where are you?”

A mask of incredulous shock painted her face again.

“Do you honestly think I would give the Resistance’s position away? Even after-”

“I don’t care about the Resistance.”

Rey’s expression softened, just enough for him to notice.

“Where are  _ you?”  _ He took a step toward her.

Her eyes widened a bit with understanding. She searched his face for a long moment before he felt the nudges of her mind against his. A search for deception, truth, the inkling of a vulnerable trust. He could feel emotions overwhelm her, conflicted thoughts battling in a relentless blur for a spot in her lucid mind.

She wanted to trust him. He could feel it. But she couldn’t. After everything…

“Rey,” he murmured, far more tenderly than he had anticipated. He took another step. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

With a shaky inhale and a sheen of fresh tears glossing her eyes, she vanished.

The white noise of the operating ship came back to him as he stared at the small puddle of rainwater in the center of the floor.

So she wasn’t gone for good. The relief of this knowledge mixed in his chest with the disappointment of their connection ending. It wouldn’t be enough for him, he knew this. He had to find her. He had to understand, completely and profoundly, every aspect of what this was between them. He needed it  _ urgently. _

There was knowledge he had yet to obtain and he knew it started with that parchment she had interrupted him from.

He turned on his heel, arm already raised to the bookshelves through the open door to his library. A blur of burgundy zipped to his reach. He smoothed his hand over the beaten leather cover of a small journal, unlabeled, unbranded.

He flipped it open, accosted immediately with a page of the most chaotic layers of notes, drabbles, and drawings on a multitude of things he didn’t want to spend time deciphering. He began to scramble through pages, searching desperately for a page of hieroglyphs neighboring the familiar shapes of the galactic standard alphabet.

It took almost almost half the journal before he reached it, nearly tearing the page in his frantic searching. The next third of the book contained page after page of hieroglyphics, conjugation, translation of words, then sentences, then vows...he was suddenly certain this had been the journal of a Sith apprentice. The thought unsettled him a bit. But he had what he needed.

He strode back into his library and dropped to a seat in front of the parchment.

His eyes darted back and forth between the journal and the scrap as his mind raced.

He was losing control again, control he needed perilously.

With a deep inhale and a slow exhale, he collected the nearest pen, jar of ink, and the notes he left unfinished. He placed the journal to his left, followed by the parchment, then he squared his own notes under his right hand, poised to write. A dot of ink dripped as he began to read. His narrowed eyes combed the hieroglyphs, scanning to the right to meet their corresponding words. The pen touched down.

_ Black Sun. _

His eyes returned to the left side of his table. They darted back and forth between the book and the scrap as its message was revealed, word by word. He could feel it buzz, pushing him on.

_ Bastila Shan, Revan. _

His mind pushed to race again, begging for the release of the excruciating anticipation he was putting himself through. He knew the story of the Jedi Bastila Shan and Darth Revan, the twisting and complex account of their love and the shaken allegiances and betrayal they faced in consequence. It was almost relatable.

_ Force... _ what was this word?  _ Dyad? _

He fought his burgeoning questions to the back of his mind as he rushed to translate the script completely.

In a few moments, it was done. He sat back, dropping the pen and gripping his notes.

_ Black Sun - archival writings lead to answers? _

_ Bastila Shan and Revan were not the dyad in the Force _

_ Prophecy discrepancies _

_ Dyad is still to come, see to Citadel about developments _

He read his translation maybe a dozen times before the questions came tumbling to the forefront of his thoughts. What was a dyad in the Force? And the Citadel...was this the rumored Sith Citadel from the untraceable planet Exegol? If so, how would he find it?

He reread the first line.

_ Black Sun - archival writings lead to answers? _

A sudden clarity ripped through his body, and the overwhelming buzz of urgency claimed him again, laced this time with determination. Black Sun was on Mustafar. Mustafar would lead him to Exegol.

And he needed to get there immediately.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really wanted Ben to be soft so I gave him a cozy grey room instead of a black one. His good boy sweater will come into play later, don't worry.  
> Just for clarification: this is primarily a reylo story, so the whole thing will be told from their alternating points of view, sometimes within the same chapter. But we will get plenty of interaction with some favorites in future chapters. And boy do I plan to do Rose justice. She deserved better.  
> Chapter three coming soon.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rey grapples with the aftereffects of the bond coming to life, seeking distraction in her friends and experiencing the first inklings of self-love. Meanwhile, Kylo Ren begins to suspect his subordinates' distrust in him may be a bigger deal than he's letting on...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your patience with my posting pace! I have a ton of free time this weekend, so chapter four may be coming sooner than planned...please enjoy!  
> And again, thank you so much for your kudos and kind words. It means a lot, and I'm so glad people are enjoying this :)

_ I don’t want to hurt you. _

Rey hadn’t blinked since he vanished, since the environment returned to her and she found herself stepping back inside the hut, since she sat at the oblong table, not hearing a single question asked by a worried Leia.

“It was Ben, wasn’t it?” The general’s use of her son’s true name, the one she gave him, brought Rey back to herself.

She turned to look at the older woman, who offered her sad, knowing eyes and a pitying smile.

“It was.”

Leia nodded. Rey watched as she battled a brewing question in the short silence, before giving in and pressing for just one more thing.

“How was he? I mean,” she took a step closer to the young woman, “is there still a Ben?”

“There always will be,” Rey’s answer was immediate and she surprised herself, but it settled within her, a truth she was terrified to trust. “He was calm. I think he’s rather distracted by something personal.”

She did not want to tell Leia that this  _ something personal  _ was almost certainly her. Leia had only nodded, satisfied, and brushed a loving hand across the rain-soaked strands of hair stuck to her face.

Rey dwelled on this interaction in the small wooden lift down from the tree, as she passed Poe, who called her and in her distraction, she ignored, and as she wandered into a thicket of ferns on the soft forest floor.

Then the memory of the connection returned to her, engulfing all thoughts, glossing over Poe’s calls as she began an aimless trek.

_ Rey. _

_ I don’t want to hurt you. _

_ I don’t care about the Resistance. _

_ Rey. _

_ Where are  _ you?

_ Rey. _

_ You wanted to take it. Why didn’t you? _

_ Rey. I don’t want to hurt you. _

What was he doing to her? His manifestation hadn’t exactly been shocking, but his appearance struck a worried chord within her. He had looked so gaunt, so tired and pale. Paler than usual. His thick, dark hair hung in a ruffled, frustrated mess around his face, framing wide, vulnerable eyes that had watched her with utter disbelief. It was the same face he made the first time they connected, the face that haunted her repeated dream...only more worrisome. He couldn’t have been getting much sleep, likely less than her.

And his feelings...when the consistent thread of the bond that had hung slack for a year was pulled taut, their unwalled, unguarded emotions had crashed into each other like warring waves in an ocean. The hailstorm of scrambled feelings had projected in dizzy orbits around her, and she struggled to grasp pieces of what brewed inside him. She remembered, prominently, regret.

_ Regret. Regret. Regret.  _

The voice of regret called out out loudest to her, and it had instantly filled her with a hope she was afraid of conceding to. But she picked up on more feelings; conflicted, concerning feelings.

_ Despair. Compassion. Vindication. Hope. Anger. Confusion. Fear. Loathing. _

Her mindless walk halted. Loathing? She could feel her heart take an iron weight and sink in her stomach as her mind scolded her for her self-pity. It was better this way. Better he loathed her, mind made up that they were fundamentally opposed.

Except he certainly did not feel that way. Her mind tried in vain to convince her that he wasn’t the subject of his own loathing, but she knew. She knew how much deeper the sight of her drove his conflict. She saw it laid bare before her, without a single touch of her hand to his. A realization dawned on her that the bond somehow seemed stronger, more potent. The openness of their minds was projected and swapped across a few meters of open space, without probing or physical contact. Could it just have been the culmination of a year’s bottled emotions? If so, why now?

“Hey!”

Rey was startled from her thoughts as a hand landed on her shoulder. She turned to see Poe, panting from the jog he took to catch up with her.

“I was calling,” he gently withdrew his hand and gave her a tired, friendly smile. “You okay?”

“Yes. Sorry, I’ve had a bit of a morning,” she waved her hands about as if to demonstrate the jumbled mess in her mind. “Lots of obstacles to work through.”

“Force stuff?” Poe winced.

“Yeah, Force stuff,” Rey giggled a bit at his demeanor. She and Poe had become fast friends since meeting after Crait, and she relished in the time she got to spend with him and Finn. He was charismatic and made every attempt he could to steal the attention of the group with a bad joke he thought was charming. It had become a comfort, a routine she could seek solace in between mission planning and training with Leia. Her friendship with Poe was a bit different than Finn’s. They’d both grown to become family to her, but with Poe, it was what Rose told her having an older sibling was like. They bickered, he questioned the safety of nearly all her decisions, and she’d call him out for nagging her. She knew it came from a good place though, and Poe had grown to mean a great deal to her; the big brother she never had.

“Well if you have the time and you’re up for it, I could use your help on the Falcon.”

Her face fell. “What did you do?”

“What do you mean, what did  _ I  _ do? It hasn’t even moved since we got here!”

She glared. “It’s sunk a bit, hasn’t it?”

Poe’s mouth formed a line. “Yes,” he reluctantly admitted.

“I  _ told  _ you this would happen if it rained!”

“I didn’t know it was gonna rain!”

“You should have anticipated! We had an opportunity to hide it on solid ground, you should have listened to me and parked it there.”

“It’s farther away, and wouldn’t allow for a fast enough escape, Rey!”

She pinched the bridge of her nose. “It’s close enough. We can reach it by X-wing if time is that much of an issue.”

“Well I know that now,” Poe admitted, voice still coated in stubborn defiance. “It’s just the mud is pretty bad in this weather and I  _ would  _ wait until it cleared up, but the landing gear is sinking fast and I’m worried about the damage. Do you think you could…?” He waved his hands around in a poor imitation of Force-powered gestures.

She sighed and turned as they began walking. “Yes, but you need back up plans. I won’t always be around to help with these things.”

“What’s that mean?” He glanced at her, intrigue laced with that worry she had come to expect.

“You know what that means, Poe,” she almost groaned the response, recalling the numerous times both she and Leia had mentioned the paths that would, for Rey, diverge from the Resistance. Rose had been instantly supportive, offering possibilities for a schedule in which she would take over Rey’s tasks in building the rebellion. The two young women had bonded quickly over their shared knack for engineering, and Rey was grateful for her optimistic support.

Finn and Poe, on the other hand, had been skeptical. Finn’s fear of her meeting a terrible fate, alone, without anyone to be there for her, had eclipsed his trust in her ability for a while. He came around eventually, but that concern was always there. Poe, she still went head to head with on the matter. He’d latched onto her skill as a scavenger, engineer, and pilot, and argued she spent too much time “levitating rocks” while the Resistance needed her help. Rey knew the claim was at least partially fueled by that protective, familial affection he had, but it had angered her when he voiced it, leading to maybe the most upsetting of their disagreements.

Walking to the Falcon now, she sucked in a breath and waited for him to retort, fully prepared to enter the same debate they’d had a handful of times. But he didn’t. Instead, he released a heavy, dramatic sigh and turned his head back toward their destination.

“I suppose I do,” his tone was resigned and Rey was grateful for it. She was not in the mood to argue, not with the headache he’d requested her help for, not with the morning she’d had. Not when  _ he  _ was fresh on her mind, his deep voice heard for the first time in a year still ringing in her ears.

She shook her head slightly, trying to play off the involuntary shudder that rain down her spine. Thankfully Poe didn’t notice.

-

Kylo marched from his room, gloves and cape replaced on his figure, the old parchment and its translation stuffed into the spine of the journal he’d used to bridge the two, tucked discreetly under his arm.

He glided down corridor after corridor, passing groups of stormtroopers who parted for him wordlessly, a hulking wave of black splitting the sea of rigid white. Officers passed him, eyes forward, or occupied otherwise. He was no fool. He knew, despite the diplomatic practice he’d repainted the First Order in, that he was still feared and distrusted. But he didn’t care. The First Order didn’t matter to him, it was just a means to an end; the power he held over it providing access to whatever he actually needed, no questions asked. He _did_ want sway over the galaxy...it was such a mess. If this ceaseless tug of war would just stop, so would all the destruction. Though it had been a cold war for a little while...war was war. He wanted nothing more than to make Rey see that, to  understand  _that_ was what he meant by ruling with her, creating a new order. A peaceful one. No more dark and light. But that wasn’t what she heard. And he couldn’t make her understand, he couldn’t  make  her do  anything _.  _ He didn’t want to, either. He wanted her to desire it the way he did.

A final door parted from the middle and he entered the bridge, launching immediately into his intentions as he saw Admiral Griss approach in his periphery.

“Reach the Knights of Ren and request their presence on the  _ Steadfast  _ as soon as possible. I’m leaving shortly for a small mission and I need them in attendance.”

“Supreme Leader,” Griss’ voice was edged with confusion. Kylo’s impatience began to bubble at a rapid rate before, “the Knights of Ren are already on board.”

The younger man stalled and spun to eye his admiral, face composed save for a glare in his eyes that threatened Griss to continue.

“Sir, were you not informed? General Hux received them at their arrival-”

“Where are they?” His voice was even.

“I believe they convened in council chambers, but that was-”

Kylo turned and exited the bridge. The Knights were here? Why was he not informed? Why did he not sense their arrival? Why were they meeting with Hux?

The trip to the council chambers was a short blur as the questions and creeping suspicions threatened to seize him in a panic. The doors slid open and he burst through, slamming his hands down on the table he sat at just hours before.

Hux, nose now covered in a thick stabilizing patch, stood in the same spot as he had been that morning, stopping dead in his tracks at Kylo’s intrusion. The Knights, who were stood, gathered around Hux rather than seated about the table, glanced in his direction. Masks on. A moment of tense silence passed before Kylo erupted.

“Were you planning on telling me of the Knights’ arrival,  _ General Hux?” _

The general’s eyes narrowed. “I can’t very well speak when my face is breaking on the floor, can I?”

“Why didn’t you  _ lead  _ with this? Why are you here?” He addressed his legion then, struggling to regain his composure.

Another silence filled the room, but this one was brimming with something beyond tension. There was a palpable panic, a fear of something gone wrong…

Movement pulled Kylo back to his thoughts. Ap’lek was reaching to remove his helmet. For the first time in years, Kylo found himself looking upon the teal-hued face of the Twi’lek-human man, one blind eye fogged over. He set his imposing mask on the table and offered his leader a professional, emotionless expression.

“Master Ren,” he began, “General Hux contacted us about your pursuits. He implied it was an area where we may be of assistance.”

Kylo didn’t trust this. Hux didn’t go out of his way to help him, quite the opposite.

As if hearing this thought, Ap’lek continued. “He believes with our help you can achieve what it is you’re seeking quicker, and you’ll be more adept to focus on the undertakings of the First Order.”

Kylo’s eyes shot to Hux, who tensed and almost rolled his eyes in the humiliation of being called out so eloquently. But he maintained his composure, default scowl plastered on his face as he awaited the Supreme Leader’s response.

He took in a steadying breath.

“General Hux, you will do well to stay out of my business in the future,” he bit out as calmly as he could. “The First Order is mine to oversee, yours to run. That is where our correspondence begins and ends, do you understand?”

“Yes, Supreme Leader,” Hux deadpanned, narrowed eyes trained on the wall to Kylo’s right.

“It is fortunate you’re here, actually,” he addressed the Knights, “I was just about to send for you. I have to go to Mustafar as soon as possible and I would prefer to have your company.”

“Yes, Master Ren,” Ap’lek replied, accompanied by the curt nods of the remaining Knights. “We’re ready when you are.”

“Good,” Kylo nodded curtly. “General Hux, leave us.”

The redhead shot him a look before meandering out of the room, chin held up to compensate for the humiliation Kylo sensed in him.

Ap’lek replaced his phantom-like helmet back on his head as Kylo revealed the old leather journal.

“I’ve discovered Sith writings hidden in one of the books I’ve collected. After some translation, it has been revealed to me that somewhere on Mustafar is someone or something that can provide the coordinates of the hidden planet Exegol.”

“What is there to be found on Exegol?” Vicrul’s raspy voice buzzed through his modulator as he took a step closer.

“Answers,” his response was short and immediate. “This is a rather personal matter to me. I’d prefer not to reveal the exact details of my interest, but I  _ must  _ know. For the sake of advancing in this galaxy. What’s good for me is good for you. I would appreciate if you respect my lack of disclosure.”

There was a heavy pause and the air thickened again. He knew the Knights wouldn’t be pleased with how little was revealed to them, but he simply couldn’t ignore the nagging feeling that he could not trust them. Not like he used to. He just needed a Force-sensitive team to back him in the face of any latent sith threat. The less they knew, the better.

“These answers,” Vicrul began, testing the words in his mind, “they are Force-related?”

“Yes.”

The Knight simply nodded and took a step back. An agreeable energy overtook the odd air of distrust in the Force, and Kylo took it as a cue to move forward.

“We leave immediately. The destination is Black Sun. Be prepared for an attack.”

He turned on his heel, leading the Knights toward the ship’s hangar. A sudden exhaustion coursed through him. But it wasn’t...his. He didn’t feel the soreness in his muscles, the tension in his joints, the heaviness of his bones. He felt just the impression of fatigue seep like ink into his bloodstream, and wrap like a thick, warm blanket over his brain.

Whatever she was doing on whatever planet, Rey was exerting herself.

-

Her arm shook in its extension.

The Falcon was  _ heavy. _

It hovered six inches above the thick mud, as a team of mechanics and pilots scrambled to slide scraps of sheet metal where the landing gear would touch down again. It was a temporary solution, but at least the gear wouldn’t be subject to the damages of the loose, wet earth.

She ground her teeth as the Force coursed through her, like violent winds contained within the confines of her veins. She could feel Finn’s gaze on her as he stood by her side, worried eyes flicking between her rigid arm and her face, contorted in concentration.

“Okay, that’s it, that’s it!” Poe stood from the sheet he and Snap had just finished aligning, and he jogged toward her through the now lighter rain. “Let her down, Rey. But gently. Please.”

She narrowed her eyes and huffed in annoyance before twisting her right foot a bit, reestablishing her grounding. The lowering of the Falcon was an excruciating practice in control. It begged to be taken by gravity, only inches away from the firm, solid scrap. Her tricep began to spasm and the Falcon creaked with the instability. She flung her left arm parallel to her right, squaring her shoulders to the ship, and felt the Force begin its violent current down the assisting arm and out her fingertips. The Falcon steadied, slowed, and after only a moment the gentle thud of metal meeting metal reached her ears.

She released, feeling the energy as it expelled itself from her body with a deep exhale. Her arms went limp at her sides, and she treasured the cool greeting of the rain against her skin.

“Thanks Rey,” Poe slapped a hand to her shoulder. “I really don’t know what we’d do without you. I mean, we’d do something, but it would certainly be more frustrating.”

“Charming,” she panted in response.

“I”m sorry,” he smiled.

She offered him a friendly grin in return and glanced at her work. The weight of the ship had pushed the sheets into the mud, just a bit, landing gear now free from the offending muck. It was caked in the stuff.

“I hope for your sake that holds,” she teased.

“It will for now,” Finn encouraged. “We should move it once this clears up, though.”

Poe begrudgingly nodded.

“Hey Dameron!”

The crew looked toward the ship to see Rose Tico approaching, her no-nonsense pace melting Poe’s expression into a certain dread.

“What did I do?”

“Parked the Falcon on loose soil. You get to clean the gear,” she shoved some portable washing equipment into his arms. Poe huffed a laugh to himself.

“I don’t know if I like how much time you’ve been spending with Leia. You’re becoming a lot like her.”

“Oh, she’s been that way,” Finn smiled at Rose, a smile she returned. 

Rey admired their interactions. When she had first met the fiery engineer, Finn had been entangled with her in something more than friendship. Something Rey missed the origin of, and something that fizzled out not long after the battle of Crait. Rey had been worried about witnessing the hurt of two people she’d grown to care about, ignoring the feelings of emotional hurt she was avoiding working through herself. But as she spent more time with Rose, developing her first real female friendship, Rey grew to understand the circumstances of her relationship with Finn.

“I think the feelings were spurred on by the circumstances,” Rose had explained as they revived the engine of an X-wing one morning. “I cared about him right away, but I think with all the chaos and the possibility of dying any second, emotions were all heightened, you know?”

“Not really,” Rey had admitted with an embarrassed smile. Because  _ did  _ she know? She would have liked to attest her conflicted feelings about Ben to chaos and heightened emotions of circumstance, but things with him were so...perpetual.

“Really? Well, that’s how I’d describe it. He’s one of the best friends I’ve ever had. I think we taught each other a lot.”

“I think  _ you  _ taught  _ him  _ a lot.”

She had pressed time and time again, but each time both Rose and Finn assured her it was no more than a meaningful and strong friendship. It was something she struggled to understand. How they could look at each other  _ like that _ and just as quickly resolve to nothing more than a platonic relationship? Wouldn’t there be disappointment, sadness? At least for a period of time, before the friendly comfort became the norm?

But what did Rey know? She spent her whole life alone. Any advances made toward her on Jakku were  _ not  _ of romantic nature, and she only had one experience with reciprocated feelings...no. No she did not. 

_ You know that’s not true _ , her mind taunted her. 

But she would not allow herself to accept what she knew was sincere. Doing so would be...dangerous.

“Yeah, yeah,” Poe’s excessive eyeroll brought her out of her thoughts. “I’ll get on it. But I have priorities Tico, you best hope this doesn’t mess up my schedule!”

Rose placed her hands on her hips and shot an intimidating glare right up at the pilot. “Should have listened to Rey if it’s such a concern for you!”

Poe’s jaw dropped as if she’d slapped him and he threw his arms up. “Was anyone on my side with this? It’s a clean getaway!”

Rey laughed and shook her head as the group began to disperse. Her whole day had been blocked out for training. But after meditation this morning...Leia hadn’t asked her back for the day. She could run a training course, practice form and motions, relieve some of the stress that had been stiffening her throughout the busy morning. Suddenly, she was aware of the knots in the junction of her neck and shoulders, throbbing from the exertion of lifting the Falcon and the shock-lead tidal wave of conflicting feelings that had rigidified her body upon seeing Ben.

She could use the stress relief.

And a change of clothes.

The white linen was weighted with rainwater and dashed with mud. Her performance in the course would lag dressed in such a way. If it were a real life scenario, if she were parring blaster bolts from an onslaught of stormtroopers, or clashing a saber against the frenzied spark of an unstable red blade...she would just have to suck it up.

She almost laughed as she regarded the state of Anakin’s lightsaber. It was working, but unstable. The same crackling quality as the red crossguard that haunted her nightmares was shared by the blue blade. Except it didn’t always ignite immediately. Sometimes it sputtered. Sometimes the sparks were so intense they burned her hands. She came to understand Kylo’s insistence on wearing the gloves.

There was a ways to go, but at least it was working. The handle, good as new, apart from the subtle melding seam encircling the middle. But the crystal...it was broken. Two halves of a whole that simply would not, or could not communicate. She  _ would  _ heal the crystal. Somehow.

The wet planks of the staircase spiraling around the tree housing her hut bowed under her weight. She climbed the spiral, ducking into the hut resting what would be two stories above the forest floor.

The hut was still a cool violet hue, as the weather of the progressing day made it impossible to clarify the time. She pulled at the bands binding her hair in the standard three buns and ran her fingers against her scalp, loosening the damp locks. They fell in stringy, tangled sections around her face. The hut’s basin had been refilled with fresh water while she was out. She trudged over to that corner by the window, dropped to her knees, and dunked her head in the deep bowl. The water was cold and it rushed across her skin, swimming through her hair and lifting the mess and anxiety from her surfaces. She held her head in the basin, letting the cool water hug and penetrate her pores, exhaling slowly until her lungs began to constrict.

A rope of water slapped the hut’s low ceiling as she whipped her head back, inhaling sharply. Her hair hit her shoulder blades with a smack, cool droplets infiltrating the warm, humid wet already soaking her clothes. She stood, unclasping the leather bands wrapping around her waist and thigh. They dropped to the floor with a thud before she went about unraveling the gauzy outer layer and peeling off the heavy linens, immediately dropping them in the basin to soak.

The chill of the hut against her skin caused her to shiver, and she suddenly felt small and vulnerable. Hastily, she dunked a rag into the water and ran it over her skin, wiping away the remnants of mud and sweat from the morning. She unraveled the wraps from her arms, ran the cloth over the warm, exposed skin, and balled all three in her hands before tossing them in the basin. She grabbed for the open-knit cotton blanket on the cot and pulled it around her shoulders.

A comfortable sense of safety washed over her in the fabric, and she moved to rest on the comfort of the cot for a moment.

The room darkened as an angry storm cloud passed over the already hidden sun. The sound of the rain picked up again, and in the lack of outside light, Rey caught her reflection in the glass of the window.

She looked so small, bundled clumsily in the old blanket. But her face…

Rey hadn’t looked at herself much in her life. The scavenger life never produced concern over looks. Not that there were many chances to catch her reflection anyway. Certainly not in an old AT-AT, on Jakku. But the times she did catch her reflection, she always saw a girl. A young girl. Steely. Lonely. Afraid. Clinging to the pieces of the life she was waiting to return to her, three buns tied up in a vertical line, white gauzy fabric wrapped in an X across her torso.

At twenty years old, she saw the same young girl in her reflection. In the posture. In the way she closed in on herself. But her  _ face,  _ it was the face of a  _ woman.  _ Her high cheekbones, the angle of her jaw, the symmetry of her sharp, hazel eyes and angular eyebrows, and the subtle fullness of her lips took her by surprise. For the first time in her life, she saw in her face what she would consider beauty.

So her body should be a woman’s body too shouldn’t it? She should hold herself like a woman, shouldn’t she?

Slowly, she pulled the blanket off her shoulders, holding it to her chest as though it were a strapless dress, taking in the feminine slope of her shoulders, the prominence of her collarbones. Her wet hair draped down her arms, stopping mid-tricep. It had really grown...she never noticed, she kept it up all the time. But the way it hung over the curves and angles of her upper body, even wet, she wondered why she never wore her hair down.

She sighed and released the blanket, eyeing the dark reflection of her body. She’d never noticed her body. She only ever noticed the feel of her ribs against her skin when she went one too many days without portions on Jakku. But here, now, she could see the subtle curve at her waist, the planes of the muscles in her abdomen, arms, and legs from the years of scavenging, let alone the extensive training she’s taken on. Her chest was smallish, her hips narrow, but there was shape and proportion and  _ beauty. _

Her gaze drifted back to the reflection of her face, and she saw it was painted in a look of fascination, as if she were bewildered by the beauty she saw in herself. It was a look she’d recognized. A look she saw in the moments she faced Kylo. No, not Kylo. _This was how Ben looked at her._

Suddenly, she felt watched. It dawned on her that she was completely and totally naked.

She snatched at the blanket, tugging the thin fabric around her chest. With a venomous glare she snapped her head over her shoulder, whipping droplets of water against the walls. But he wasn’t there. No one was.

Rey released a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding and dropped onto the cot, rubbing her temples.

Yeah. She should run a training course. To get her mind off of things.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The journey to Mustafar provides Kylo with answers, however game-changing they may be...

The stars discontinued their long, laserlike streaks as the Knights of Ren pulled their respective ships out of hyperspace. Mustafar filled Kylo’s vision; red, black, and foreboding. Streaks and spots on the planet’s surface pulsed and glowed almost yellow, an indicator from beyond the planet’s atmosphere where the lava seas were. He hadn’t even left the TIE  Silencer,  hadn’t even entered the planet’s atmosphere, and already an intense heat washed over his body.

He followed the coordinates to the Black Sun fortress, lowering his TIE down on a rocky island of a landing pad. The air was sweltering as he climbed out of the ship, instantly covered in a sheen of sweat and an uncomfortable warmth blanketing his insides. From the rock he stood on, across an angled, inclining bridge over the angry flow of lava, was the fortress.

It was a vertical and symmetrical feat of architecture, almost resembling an insectoid creature crossed with a ship. A column of windows served as the fortress’ centerline, emanating a yellow glow from within. This column ended when the roof of the building split outward, like the pincers of a beetle up close, perfectly mirroring one another. It was grand, and clearly designed to appear imposing.

Kylo felt the faint hum and buzz of the Force across his skin, encouraging him on. The Knights approached him at the foot of the bridge, lead by Vicrul.

“May I ask?” he rasped.

Kylo contemplated his vague inquiry for a moment. He was hellbent on keeping his primary intentions to himself. But he needed the Knights on this, and he felt the tentativeness they shared. There was a new, unspoken distrust rooting from their surprise appearance on the  _ Steadfast, _ and given those circumstances, perhaps the roots of this unease reached even further back. He had to give a little. Even as their leader.

He nodded for Vicrul to continue.

“Are you seeking something to give you an advantage over the girl?”

Kylo did not move. He did not let his face drop. His facade gave no indication to the storm of anger, paranoia, and anxiety brewing within him.

“The scavenger girl,” Vicrul clarified. “The one who killed Snoke.”

Kylo waited a beat, the storm receding as he realized a way around the subject.

“Yes,” he responded, voice void of tangible emotion. “She’s untrained with a power in the Force I’ve never seen. But there are things she doesn’t understand.”

“And you believe the answers are on Exegol?”

“Yes.”

Vicrul paused. “We could help, Kylo,” his voice dropped to a level of personability Kylo hadn’t heard in years, a tone laced with the vaguest impression of friendship. The Knights were a team, never friends, but they did what they could to take care of each other. Out of respect. “Defeating Snoke and his entire Praetorian guard was impressive, but if she matches you in power, and if you have the aid of a  _ Force-sensitive _ group...she won’t win.”

“No,” Kylo felt a sliver of rage spit fire into his heart and he snapped his head toward the Knight, using the small difference in their height to loom over him. “It has to be  _ me.” _

Vicrul did not move. But he made a face under his mask. Kylo could sense it. It twisted slightly, in a contradictory mix of confusion and understanding.

“Understood.”

Kylo offered him a curt nod, rage receding as quickly as it came. He then lifted his head to address all the Knights.

“We’re after an access point to Exegol. Based on the script I found, we’ll start here. If anyone can provide information, take it. Anyone who attempts to cross us dies.” 

The Knights of Ren provided wordless acknowledgement, and the Force around them zipped into something solid, clear, and dangerous. They turned to the bridge, and Kylo ignited his lightsaber. It crackled to life, sparking furiously in the dark energy of the hellish world.

Behind him he heard the ignition of each Knight’s custom artificial kyber weapon. Each ax, cleaver, scythe, and spear lacked the typical sharp steel point or edge in favor of a glowing red kyber beam, all hybrids of traditional weapons and the lightsaber.

The Knights moved forward in a menacing red halo, the lava sea below them spitting and hissing furiously as if to announce their arrival. They made it nearly halfway up the bridge before figures began charging their direction, blasters, traditional spears and daggers and axes waving about defensively in the air. As the charge grew closer, Kylo could see they were majority Zabraks, possibly Maul loyalists. He felt no Force sensitivity from the approaching mass and began to feel the inklings of guilt at how easy this would be. It caused him to falter, for just a step.

_ No. _

Now was not the time to let his inner conflict play tug-of-war with his soul. There was a greater purpose to this inevitable battle. People would die. It was simply the way. There was no time for guilt.

He swallowed the moral battle fighting to reach the forefront of his mind as the first Zabrak reached him, spear raised over his shoulder. The surviving scrap of Ben Solo turned off like a switch as he easily reared his saber back and sliced it cleanly through the man’s midsection. Chaos erupted in his ears as the atmosphere was filled to the brim with a cacophony of screams, the whirs of lightweapons, the ripping of flesh, and the roar and sizzle of active burning.

Kylo walked leisurely, swinging his saber around him, slashing across and through figure after untrained figure, seeing their intent, their lack of preparation, their-

He stumbled back as a searing pain glanced across his right tricep. A blaster bolt had grazed him, the offender’s head already dropping to the stony tread of the bridge under Trudgen’s lightcleaver. Something in him rose and it was too much to hold this composure. He broke into a run, swinging his saber in the arcs he’d practiced daily for years, sidestepping and ducking and swinging unparalleled blows into the onslaught.

He struck every assailant with increasing vigor, feeling something beginning to choke him, to spur on the anger, the violence, the destruction. It was more than the machinations of the dark Force energy engulfing Mustafar, it was more  _ personal. _

He felt the pressure in his throat, the strain of fear he attributed to the teachings of Snoke, his failures and punishments for his conflicted psyche.

He suddenly felt the memory of his father forced into his mind.

He squeezed his eyes shut, carrying on his attack unmatched, but the backs of his eyelids were projected with Han’s face as the unstable blade shot through his chest. He felt his hand, the hand of his father, as it reached up to gently hold his cheek, before it slid away...before Han Solo tumbled over the edge of the walk and into the abyss...before he lost his  _ father at his own hand… _

Kylo released a guttural roar as the memory assaulted his senses and tore into his soul, and he spun in a wild arc, slicing viciously through whatever figures still surrounded him.

He opened his eyes.

Bodies lay scattered across the higher half of the bridge, leaving only himself and the Knights standing. They were all facing him, weapons lowered and dormant. Despite the masks, he could feel the veneer of wariness on each of their hidden expressions.

“Master Ren,” Ap’lek began. If Kylo didn’t know better, he’d say the Knight sounded almost...concerned.

“Is everyone fit to continue?” He panted lowly, changing the subject.

“Yes, but,” Ap’lek gestured. “Your arm.”

As if responding to its acknowledgement, the blistering pain across his upper right arm returned to him. He glanced at it, wincing to himself at the seared hole in his sleeve, bearing the bloody gash it left behind. Two gashes really, the bolt must have skidded somehow.

His eyebrows shot up in realization. He recognized this scar. Because it wasn’t his. Two linear welts, forking at the ends, like two hands reaching for each other…

It was Rey’s scar.

From the fight in the throne room.

He forced the thought into a bottle, trying to hide the vulnerability his increased heartbeat betrayed. “It barely skimmed me. I’m fine.”

Ap’lek nodded once in acknowledgement. Kylo turned toward the fortress, cape swirling behind him. The Knights followed. It was just as impressive a structure up close, minute details demanding the attention of anyone who meant to cross the fortress’ threshold. The double-wide doors across the smooth, grey plaza parted from the middle, casting them in the artificial yellow glow of the indoors.

The entrance corridor was the same imposing, smooth stone style as the facade, however softened with the lights lining the walls. The corridor was long and it inclined slightly, leading to another double door. No one emerged to challenge them in this hall.

They reached the steel door at the end of the corridor, and it opened with a hiss, revealing a dark foyer, extending up at least twelve stories. A lazy stream of lava fell in a controlled flow down the far wall of the foyer, disappearing into a chasm in the ground which undoubtedly lead back into the lava sea below. Kylo turned and saw the wall behind them was built from pane after pane of ornate glass. So this was the center of the fortress he observed from the outside, a grand foyer from which the rest of the structure assuredly radiated.

_ Thud. _

Kylo whirled around, stopping rigid with his lightsaber already ignited and aimed at the source of the sound. The red glow illuminated the features of the offending silhouette against the lavafall. It was a withered old man, trembling against the plain staff he leaned on. He was bald, imbalanced by a long, white beard which contrasted against his reddish skin. Heavy looking robes of teal hung on his frame, peppered with geometric yellow accents.

Kylo felt a vibration in the air around him. Whoever this old man was, he was at least mildly Force-sensitive. His grip tightened around the hilt of his lightsaber.

“I do not wish this to be a violent interaction,” the man’s voice was hoarse as he raised a submissive hand.

“Then you will tell me what I need to know,” Kylo turned his wrist, twisting the angle of his blade.

“I will try,” the old man hadn’t moved. “What can I do?”

Kylo approached slowly, lightsaber still trained on the unimposing figure before him.

“Tell me who or what on this planet will lead me to Exegol.”

The old man squinted at him, straining his neck slightly as if he were trying to see more clearly. The distance now closed between them, Kylo felt a push to relax. Against the protests in his head, he lowered his saber to his side. Something solid washed over the energy of the Force and the old man leaned back, face fixed in what looked like...contentment.

“You won’t find your answers here,” he said with a smile. Was this old man...mocking him? Kylo’s grip on his saber tightened into something iron as anger threatened to seize control of him again. “Not at Black Sun.”

“What do you mean?” He struggled to keep his voice even.

“The wayfinder you are seeking resides on the grounds of your grandfather’s castle, young Solo.”

Kylo stilled.

“Your presence is strong, boy. Mustafar was once the home of your blood. You will feel it call to you.”

He only held the old man’s eye contact, unable to find words. Unable to decide how he felt.

“You should beware. There is a legion of Sith cultists guarding the grounds. They’re known to be rather ruthless and will do all they can to vanquish you.”

Kylo finally offered an acknowledging nod, grip now slack on the hilt of his saber. He didn’t notice the old man disappear into one of the adjacent corridors. He didn’t notice the Knights approach him, expecting instruction. He didn’t realize he had retracted his unstable blade back into its handle.

“Master Ren,” Ap’lek’s diplomatic drone brought him back to his surroundings. “Shall we depart for Fortress Vader?”

“Yes,” he muttered.

The interaction replayed in his mind as they retreated from Black Sun, as they trekked over the carnage they induced, as they climbed back in their ships. He thought about the comfort the old man had with his presence as he punched in the coordinates, the ease with which he was recognized. He thought about how the man had addressed him.

_ Young Solo. _

It unsettled him deeply, the way he didn’t know how to feel about the interaction. He’d gotten something he needed. Why wasn’t he angry with the way he was addressed? It reminded him of his final encounter with Lor San Tekka. Except...no anger. No death. There was no reaction to his given name. What could that mean? He began to consider how effective the shields in his mind truly were. Beyond that, he wondered how much he was letting on that the conflict he was still denying had him teetering on the edge of light side tendencies. Was it obvious to the Knights, to the First Order? Hell, how long had he been in such a state? Could he have unwittingly compromised his own safety?

This churn of exasperation began to mix grotesquely with the waking grip of obsession, the same dark energy that had compelled his frantic translation of the Sith note. It enhanced as his ship zipped over rocky islands and bodies of lava toward Vader’s castle. It  _ was  _ calling to him. He felt it sink into him through every pore and seep all the way down into his marrow. But this time it was more intense, more desperate...it was like the feeling had been coated in muffling layers in his library, and the closer he got to this token, this  _ wayfinder, _ the more layers were peeled from the feeling. The louder its urgent, monotonous call became. It was overwhelming. And that fueled his irritation.

He itched to hold the wayfinder, and as he soared over Gahenn Plains and his grandfather’s castle came into view, he realized he almost looked forward to cutting down whoever stood in his way. A haunting and sparse forest of irontrees neighbored the abandoned castle, all black and vertical and unnerving. The obsession was suddenly screaming at him, buzzing from his core and hailing him toward the forest. He glanced over the landscape, calculating where to land.

The forest provided no feasible clearing, open only on the end adjacent to the fortress to a mysterious bog. They would have to start at the end and work their way through.

He landed his TIE at the outer treeline, Knights following suit. The forest was like a microclimate; as soon as they crossed over the edge, they found themselves moving through a thin blanket of ash, which fluttered like snow from, he supposed, the bare canopies of the trees. Kylo drew his lightsaber, anticipating it was only a matter of moments before their trek became violent. Behind him, he heard the low whirs and sharp crackles of other lightweapons coming to life, accompanied by a brightened red glow in his periphery.

The voice of the persistent nudge inside him had ceased its frantic hailing and had softened to a low, beckoning hum. It urged him on with each step he took, smoothing satisfyingly as he weaved through the skeletal trees.

Movement caught his eye ahead, and he felt the Force energy of the Knights sharpen into a ready defensiveness. The cultists were barreling at them through the forest, waving staffs and blasters about as their odd, barrel-like bodies thudded across the ash. The unmistakable sound of a blaster bolt pierced the atmosphere, a green flare zooming directly at Kylo. He spun his saber, deflecting the bolt, and wound back, swinging his blade to impale the wide body of the fastest cultist. An Alazmec.

Retracting his blade from the crumpling figure, he zeroed in on another Alazmec with a hefty staff, and took a running start. Tightening his grip on the saber, he swung his arm back with momentum for a right hook, and slammed his saber wielding fist square into the chest of the cultist. His feet flew out from underneath him, and Kylo continued the momentum of his arm down, slamming his opponent’s back into the ground. The Alazmec released an animalistic scream as one of his saber’s cross jets burned through his abdomen. Kylo smoothly arced his blade to point at the figure, and he tore it upward, ripping clean through the center of his head.

His head snapped up to survey his next opponent, a shorter Alazmec shooting wildly at him. He deflected each bolt with the graceful arcs an spins of his saber, ricocheting one bolt back through the gunner’s head.

The hum vibrated a little more intensely as he spotted it.

A clearing, only a few hundred meters ahead, bearing a large stone-looking chest at the bank of the bog. It had to be there.

His vision zeroed in on the stone slab, and he began to move methodically toward it, swinging his blade through enemies he did not look at. The Force coursed through him, pushing him along as if he were in the center of a rapid and no one could touch him, no matter how desperately they reached from the banks.

One large, lumbering Alazmec rounded a tree and filled his vision, charging at him with a long staff. When he was within striking distance, Kylo crossed his left leg over his right, moving just out of the way as the Alazmec skidded to a stop past him. He swung his body around low, twisting his grip on the saber and planting his right foot, and his arm finished the turn, backhanded saber driving through the Alazmec’s chest behind him.

Snapping his head back to the stone structure, he raised his left arm and felt the Force reach through his fingertips.

_ Yes. _

It was there.

Kylo retracted his unstable blade, hearing the figure fall to the ground with a thud as he closed the distance to the edge of the clearing. He could hear the final whirs and burning tears of the Knights cutting down the cultists behind him, but he did not turn around. When the last thud and consecutive zips of lightweapons being extinguished left an eerie silence hanging over the wood, Kylo placed his hands on the cool stone lid of the chest and slid it to the ground.

There, tucked in a perfectly carved divot in the center of the chest, was the wayfinder. Kylo gripped the square edges of the only visible face and pulled, revealing a small pyramid, with four glass panes and the dark energy of a green glow thrashing within. He felt the hum of it in his gloved palm.  _ Yes, this is what you came for, this is what you need.  _

Yet something within him still stirred.

He furrowed his brows and glared into the wayfinder, expecting to sense the eventual resolve, but the flicker of unrest energy was beyond his grasp, just out of range…

_ Tell them to leave us. _

The voice echoed against the walls of his mind and his eyes shot up to the bog in front of him. It was still, but he sensed a presence lurking beneath the murky water. Something non-threatening, but imbued with the Force, a unique signature beyond that of a Sith or Jedi. Whatever called to him, it was something ancient and cerebral. He could feel the eyes he couldn’t see, the mind he couldn’t place, looking upon him. He could sense it already knew absolutely everything about him, without even a nudge into the walls of his mind.

He turned to the Knights.

“There's something I need to finish. Alone. I will meet you at the ships.”

Vicrul took a step forward, but Kylo cut off his question before it finished forming in his head.

“This is part of the matter I wish not to disclose. It’s...of a familial nature.” His voice dipped; he heard it outside his body as he wrapped the lie in a blanket of deception. The Knights now understood his aloofness was related to Rey, but he refused to let on any more. He supposed tying his intentions to Vader would earn him the least skeptical adherence to privacy. And he was right, as Vicrul nodded and waved the Knights back toward the wood.

Kylo watched them disappear from sight before turning back to the bog. He meandered around the open chest, approaching the edge of the water, eyes darting across the pond. Visibility diminished immediately past the surface, but he stubbornly narrowed his eyes and glared into the murky depths.

A ripple. Small, but noticeable. He zoned in on the subtle movements of the water, eyes trained on the spot they radiated from.

Suddenly the sound of water rushing over a surface filled the air, and a large figure emerged from the center of the pond, displacing the still liquid in small, lapping waves.

It was...odd. The head of a giant infant, at least eight feet wide, protruded from the center of the bog from the nose up. It looked like a human baby would, except for the size, the aquatic, fin-like points of its ears, and the strange reddish-orange hue of its skin. It appeared to be sleeping. Or comatose. The latter seemed more likely as Kylo took in the figure perched on its round head. It was an eight-legged thing, feet seemingly suctioned to the baby’s head. So perhaps it was parasitic. Its face reminded him of a Mon Calamari, albeit with smaller eyes and very grey, very wrinkled skin.

Despite its odd and unsettling appearance, it looked at Kylo with kind, old, knowing eyes.

“Ben Solo,” it spoke.

Kylo tensed. “That’s not my name.”

Its smile deepened, almost pitying. Kylo felt exposed.

“What are you?”

“I am the Oracle.”

He felt his shoulders lower slightly, interest peaked. “What do you want?”

“I’ve waited a long time to speak with you, boy,” the old creature spoke with such endearment, such familiarity. Kylo felt that watched, known feeling wash over him again. “Your conflict splits your subconscious. You stand on the precipice of dark and light, and even as your answer resides within you, you still do not see the way.”

“I...what?”

“The way, Ben Solo. The way that is your very soul.”

He simply stared and shook his head once, still missing the point.

“The soul you share.”

Kylo’s eyes widened. The soul he  _ shared? _ The Oracle couldn’t mean…

“Yes. Your connection with the Force-user, Rey. It is beyond a bond. You, Ben Solo, you and Rey are a dyad in the Force.”

His mouth went dry. A _dyad..._ it had taken hold of his mind since he translated the script in his library, something he’d been trying to understand, _this_ was what he truly shared with Rey?

“Yes, boy,” the Oracle responded gently, hearing his thoughts again. “You are tethered together in the Force. One soul shared between two bodies, a bond as powerful as life itself. You are the beginning and the end of each other. A balance in the Force.”

“I...this...I don’t-”

“You are still resisting the Force’s call,” its voice lowered. “Despite your feelings for her.”

Kylo’s head snapped up, eyes wide as he drowned in vulnerability.

“Compassion...no, it extends beyond that. Something true and raw and intimate. She consumes you.”

He shook his head, more in disbelief than denial.

The Oracle’s face extended slightly from an indiscernible neck, its old eyes narrowing as it peered over the man standing before it.

“You would die for her.”

“Yes,” Kylo breathed. A weight lifted from his heart, crumbled debris rolling away from the truth buried beneath it.

“She is your destiny, Ben Solo. Accept your soul. Your denial will destroy you.”

The water bubbled as the resting head began to slowly sink back into the water. Kylo suddenly panicked, desperate for more answers.

“Wait,” he implored. “What about her, what if...how am I supposed to tell her this?”

“Your journey is not over,” the Oracle’s eyes fell to Kylo’s hand as it gradually returned to the depths. Kylo glanced down. The wayfinder. “There is more to her story, as there is to yours. Your coming together will be the salvation of all things.  _ You are the balance.” _

With one last knowing gaze, the Oracle slipped beneath the surface, and was gone.

It took Kylo a moment to move. It took him a moment longer to realize he was breathing audibly, nearly hyperventilating. Despite the racing thoughts which matched the speed of his heartbeat, a calm acceptance settled in some part of him. He was exposed, feelings for Rey laid bare by a knowing creature who offered him an answer. And a clear next step to understand more. More about himself. More about Rey…

He glanced back down at the wayfinder in his grasp. Exegol. The next step.

As he turned and began his trek back to his ship, he found with suffocating honesty that he had never missed her so much.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rey struggles to remain centered as she grows more independent of her past and her expectations. She and Ben have a startling connection. Finally, all hell breaks loose...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your comments, I love reading the analyses of Ben and what everyone thinks will happen next!

She came to herself in an odd landscape. The trees framing the clearing she stood in were...moving. They rippled like a pond in the rain, only wider and slower in motion. It was as if the trees were straining to move through a viscous liquid. Breathing. She completed a full rotation, taking in the sentient environment, and felt a fullness hum around her and swallow her whole. The Force, more raw and unfiltered than she’d ever felt before. It was wholly disquieting and utterly ethereal.

She stilled at the end of her turn.

He was centered in her field of vision. Directly across from her, an arms length away.

He was making that face. The one from their first connection.

_ Just you. _

Those eyes were so warm, so soft, so  _ Ben.  _ She found they held her rooted to the spot. Words fought to break from her mouth, truths rushing from her insides and piling up against the iron barrier of her lips.

Slowly, waveringly, he raised a hand toward her. Gloveless. His fingertips just glanced her jawline, the tickle of a breath, before the full circumference of his palm pressed delicately against her cheek. Her skin responded slowly, prickling awake as if it had been numbed, and the warmth of his touch slowly washed into her. She leaned into his hand, releasing a breathy sigh as her eyes fluttered closed.

“The soul you share.”

Her eyes flew back open and she found herself looking at an unchanged Ben. The same vulnerable eyes were still gazing at her in subtle wonderment. He couldn’t have spoken. That voice was not his.

She strained her neck to search for the source of the disembodied voice, but found her cheek was magnetized to his touch.

“Accept your soul,” his mouth was moving. Her eyes widened in shock. Ben  _ was  _ physically speaking, but... _ this voice was not his.  _ “Your denial will destroy you.”

“Ben?”

“A dyad in the Force.”

“What?”

His vulnerable eyes were now glossed over with something distant, yet knowing.

“You are tethered together in the Force. One soul shared between two bodies, a bond as powerful as life itself. You are the beginning and the end of each other. A balance in the Force.”

Rey’s eyes began to dart over his face, scouring his features for something, anything off kilter. His words, or the words of whatever voice possessed him, threw her serenity into a jumble.  _ One soul shared between two bodies... _ was this the aforementioned dyad? The only thing that anchored her from the spiral that begged to overtake her was his hand upon her cheek. His touch was so warm, so exciting and familiar...so Ben.

“Ben...what’s happening?” She lifted a hand to mirror his, resting it on the fair skin of his cheek. With her touch, he blinked. The distant sheen vanished from his eyes, and he was  _ seeing  _ her again.

“Rey,” Ben’s voice. “You are my destiny.”

She awoke with a start, jolting upright and inhaling sharply, as if she’d been drowning and broke the surface at the last second.

She’d had the dream. Except it was...wrong. Odd, longer, and more visceral. They had spoken. She had touched him back. And that voice that possessed him, what was that?

_ A dyad in the Force. _

Her brain throbbed with the stockpile of growing questions. She slumped her shoulders, bringing her fingers to her temples. A headache was not what she needed this morning, not with the dull bruises on her hip, thigh, and shoulder blades forming after yesterday’s training course missteps.

She blinked the sleepy haze from her eyes and glanced at the window of her hut, spirits lifting slightly with the warm, rosy glow of an unclouded sunrise filtering through. The spell was broken as she pulled her legs from beneath the old blanket. The aching throb in her temples flared when she swung them over the edge of her cot. She leaned forward with a wince, gripping the edge of the pallet, allowing her loose hair to fall like a curtain around her face.

With a determined huff, she stood and stretched. She would  _ not  _ let this headache deter the pace of her morning. It was a plea from her mind to spend mental and emotional capital on the jarring dream she’d just woken from. The dream she was stuffing into a concealed corner of her subconscious until she was ready to deal with it.

They’d reconnected in the middle of her meditation the previous morning. That could be the reason for the disconcerting changes to the already perplexing dream. At least, that was the reason she was going with. To appease her needy mind.

Rey shuffled across the hut and creaked open the old wooden trunk next to the basin, where she’d been storing her necessities in their time on Endor. She began to delicately rifle through a small collection of folded fabrics, searching for her freshly dried white ensemble. An odd flutter of disappointment rippled throughout her at the thought. Suddenly the choice seemed...off. Something she’d finally accepted she had outgrown.

Her search paused as she found a stony grey vest she’d only worn a handful of times. It was a simple and sturdy thing, comfortable and flattering to her shape. She tugged it from the trunk and unfolded it, eyeing the garment before a sense of satisfaction filled her.

After tossing it to her cot, she returned her attention to the trunk to find matching pieces; the comfortable wrap top and pants she’d worn before would...no. She’d like sleeves, so she wouldn’t have to bother with wraps around her arms. And longer pants would be nice. It would just be ideal to put together something a little more versatile across various environments. Her digging paused again when she unearthed the darkest material in the old trunk.

A near-black jumpsuit, very minimalist and very practical, had been offered to her after a major supply run. The ever stylish Leia had implored her to wear it a few times, but it had always seemed so  _ bold. _ But after what she saw in her reflection the day before...maybe bold was the way to go.

Rey tossed the jumpsuit next to the vest and tugged the hem of her baggy linen nightshirt over her head. She winced at the growing purple of the bruise on her hip as she pulled the shirt’s matching pants off, before messily folding the sleeping set and placing it in the trunk.

The jumpsuit was a cool, soft material with stretch she could feel as she stepped into its legs. It fastened like a separate pair of pants and a top; a zipper leading to a button at the high waistline, and the top section she pulled on like a jacket, before tightening the wrap-style neckline so it sat right, two hidden hooks to secure it. The vest fit as a perfect layer to the ensemble, which she finished off with the fastening of her default leather belt at her waist.

A warm confidence rushed over her at the ways this dark material hugged and complimented her figure. It wasn’t fitted to every plane of her body, but her waist, hips and arms were wrapped snugly in the cool fabric. The legs of the jumpsuit fit in a flattering straight cut, the hem of which reached just above her ankles.

Rey smiled to herself and ran her fingers through her hair, loosening the tangles of sleep before gathering the uppermost layer at the back of her head. She paused, releasing one hand to inspect the tresses she’d left down. They were remarkably softer than she’d ever cared to notice. She hummed to herself with resolve. One half-up bun would do.

The morning air was a blessed warm in the peachy glow of the sunrise. The rose gleam filtering in through the leaves cast speckled, dancing patterns across the redwood trunks. It was beautiful and peacefully iridescent, and Rey felt a lazy comfort at the scene. She meandered across the bridge, soaking up every moment of this gentle morning, knowing all too well the serenity would be fleeting.

As if on cue, Poe rounded the balcony of the trunk she was approaching, and he stilled at her presence. For a split second, she caught an ashen expression, laced with steely determination before he noticed her and the color returned to his face. His manner changed like the wind, eyes widening a tad and head cocking to the side in surprise.

“New look, huh?”

“Yeah,” she responded, doubt threatening to overtake her newfound confidence. “It’s...practical, you know, I’m not stuck on a desert planet anymore.”

“Yeah, I gotcha,” Poe chuckled, aware he’d made her nervous. “It’s a killer look, Rey, it suits you.” He paused for a moment, eyes trained on something over her shoulder that wasn’t there. Whatever had troubled him a moment ago remained, hardly concealed under his usual friendly mask. He was distant. Rey could feel it. His eyes made it back to hers, and he smirked. “Damn, I didn’t know your hair was that long.”

“I didn’t either, really,” she replied. An awkward, tense silence swallowed the space between them as they watched each other, both offering tight-lipped smiles that didn’t quite reach their eyes. Unease churned within Rey. Something was off. Poe may be occasionally prone to dramatics, but Rey did not have time to dance around these things with him.

“Poe, are you alright?”

“Yeah,” his answer was far too quick. “Just you know, rough night. Didn’t sleep well.”

Well, that was a lie. She wondered why he would lie to her. What he would even lie to her about. She didn’t like it at all. That wasn’t fair though, she had her secrets. If there was something Poe didn’t want to tell her, she wouldn’t push. It was likely personal. Why the hell was she being so paranoid?

She nodded in acceptance and moved to continue her walk.

“Wait, Rey.”

She looked at him expectantly.

“Leia wants to see you as soon as possible.”

“Oh, okay,” she responded, voice even. “Thank you, Poe.”

He offered her a courteous nod and continued on his way. Their shoulders brushed as they passed on the narrow bridge, and Rey felt a sliver of the tumultuous wave crashing in his mind.

_ Do not tell her. It’s for the best, she’ll understand. _

Rey frowned. Perhaps his plight wasn’t so personal. It felt...bigger. A whole different lane. Dwelling on it would get her nowhere. She wished he would confide in her as he had been all year, whether she wanted to hear it or not, but she could not make him divulge his thoughts if he didn’t want to.

Well...she could.

Horror gripped her. How could she even consider that? He was her friend. No, he was her  _ family,  _ practically her brother. She would never effectuate the mind trick on her loved ones, it was wrong. It would be a betrayal.

Rey ambled to the platform for the rickety wooden lift, forcing the overwhelming darkness back into the bottle she’d stored it in all year, the tendrils of shame still grabbing at her subconscious. She didn’t need to know everything Poe was up to. She resolved that he would tell her if she needed to know.  _ She’ll understand,  _ he had thought. She decided to trust that sentiment.

The lift was empty on the forest floor, so Rey gripped the pulleys operating its movement and pulled. Her bruised shoulder blades protested, radiating an unpleasant soreness throughout her upper back. She winced and gritted her teeth, pushing through the discomfort. Once the lift reached her landing, she took a moment to catch her breath before boarding and pulling herself to the high hut where Leia was waiting.

A loose strand of hair fell across Rey’s eye and she huffed an annoyed breath at it as she exited the lift. Leia stood on the balcony outside the hut this morning, mug of caf in hand, admiring the specked sunrise as Rey had been minutes before.

The general turned to greet her, but her words died on her tongue as she took Rey in. Admiration quickly overtook the surprise on her face.

“This is new,” she smiled knowingly.

“I reckon it’ll take some adjusting still. But I felt like I needed it.”

“You’re finally wearing it,” Leia’s voice was drenched in a smug satisfaction that reminded Rey of Han.

“It’s practical. And it fits nice, you were right.”

“Dear, I’m always right.”

Rey laughed. It was truly unfair how Leia embodied both diplomatic elegance and casual, commanding confidence in the way she spoke.

“I just figured,” Rey paused, trying to find the right words. “It was time to let go of the past. I’m a grown woman, it’s time to be my own person.”

“I’m glad. You really do look just lovely,” Leia beamed at her. “Now, let’s get started with this day. I heard you ran the training course yesterday.”

Rey nodded.

“I’d like to see you run it today. I’ve made some modifications.”

“Oh,” she blinked. “What kind?”

“You’ll see,” Leia smirked.

The two women boarded the lift to the forest floor. Rey’s pulse quickened in anticipation. She fingered the healing saber on her hip, and a sudden doubt shot through her. Anakin’s blade was no more stable than it had been the day before, when it ignited immediately but sputtered for a good couple of minutes in the middle of her forms. It left her victim to the unpleasant stun shots of the practice droids, resulting in the blooming bruises she’d been grimacing at since she woke. Her irritation had reached a boiling point and she threw her arms out with a feral cry, sending the droids careening into the trunks of the trees.

She wasn’t looking forward to losing her patience like that again. Especially not with Leia watching. She couldn’t  _ afford  _ to lose her patience in front of Leia. She didn’t want to provide the general with any reason to suspect Rey was falling to the dark side. It was quite strange; among the Resistance she had been heralded as the  _ last Jedi,  _ yet based on the texts she’d been able to study, she was no Jedi at all.

She was too emotional, too passionate. She cared too deeply about too many people. And she was  _ angry.  _ Every single day, no matter how tiring, relaxing, full of work or full of laughter, she experienced at least one moment of overwhelming anger.

She could usually keep it contained. Callous, spiteful, but meaningless thoughts about Poe’s faults when he crossed a line with her. A single, exasperated huff when the throb in her head was provoked by the mechanical buzz of her tools as she worked on ship repairs. The wild, irascible spit of defensive rage that scorched through her veins when she overheard Snap and Beaumont joking about how they’d “take out Kylo Ren.”

She never let anyone see those moments of indignation. She was no fool. She knew while the Resistance was for the most part, glad to have a Force-user so eager to fight alongside them, there was a notable number that distrusted her still. Worse, there were allies who feared her. She  _ knew  _ it was because of her natural proficiency for some dark side methods, despite its use to their advantage.

Rey glanced back up to find Leia watching her, eyes moving between her face and the lightsaber.

“It’s too unstable,” Rey began.

“You’ve been managing.”

“I know, but it’s been...it’s just it’s not ready. Not for the real thing.”

“Rey,” Leia cooed with an amused smile. “I don’t think the real thing is ready for you.”

She blushed at the compliment, despite her reticence to agree.

“Don’t worry about the saber,” the general’s gaze fixed ahead, determined. “Things will work out soon.”

Rey could tell she was trying to hide it, but Leia couldn’t help the slight upturn of her lips when she spoke. She knew something Rey didn’t. Despite the vaguity, she felt an energy, an intuition that this modified course she was about to embark on would mean some accomplishment for restoring the lightsaber. She couldn’t pinpoint how, but the possibilities replaced her anxiety with an excited resolve.

The lift came to a creaky stop on the rich soil and the two women departed. The energy of the Force was bright and encouraging this morning. It danced among the beautiful ferns and sang with the chirps and tweets of morning fauna. This could have been the responsibility of the ethereal masterpiece the sunrise was painting across the greenery, but that wasn’t quite right. The scene was more like a visual representation of the tune the Force sang that morning.  _ Excitement. Encouragement. A breakthrough. _

It pushed Rey along. She could feel the sun streaming through her veins and her muscles and her bones, as if it were radiating from within her very core. The Force swirled invisibly around her, tingling at her fingertips and carrying each step she took. She hadn’t even started the course. It was bound to be a good run.

Rey and Leia came to a halt a good twenty yards from the edge of a ravine. The gentle sound of the creek running filled their ears, accompanied by the distant rush of a small waterfall. Rey turned to Leia, who smiled pleasantly in return. She took a deep breath and grasped the saber from her belt. A touch of apprehension prodded at the buzzing confidence of Force energy swirling through her. Her finger hovered hesitantly over the activator.

“It’ll be alright, Rey,” Leia encouraged. “It’s only a tool. Hold on to that feeling.”

Rey nodded and pressed the switch. The blue blade sputtered to life with a crackling buzz, flickering like a campfire. A brief eruption of sparks rained on her bare skin and she winced, but steeled herself against the sting. The lightsaber did not falter. She felt the Force reach though her fingertips and bind to the blade, holding it fast for the task she was prepared to undertake.

She closed her eyes, taking one deep inhale, and releasing a slow exhale. Her eyes fluttered open and she nodded at Leia.

The general returned the nod and pulled a small remote from the pocket of her coat. With an activating touch, the practice droids hummed to life. Spherical units rose from the underbrush, blaster ports charging with a low whine.

Rey dropped to a crouch, muscles primed to dart her across the forest like a slingshot waiting for release. The saber was held in a backhand grip at her side. She would arc the weapon first, this she knew. It felt natural.

She felt the first droid a nanosecond before it moved. She spun to her full height, extending her arm so the lightsaber laid parallel to it, like a linear shield. A stun bolt hit the blade with a satisfying sizzle, ricocheting off the blue and striking the droid that fired it. It stilled and lowered gingerly to the ground. One down.

Subtle movement to her left prompted a stabilizing step in that direction. She elegantly bent her left arm behind her back while her right windmilled the lightsaber, deflecting three stuns from three clustered droids. Four down.

It was time to move. With a huff and a devilish smile, she broke into a dead sprint for the ravine, crouching hard at the edge before kicking her legs up. Her body soared in a graceful aerial over the creek, straightened legs leading and propelling her, as she wound the saber in a sweeping arc from her hip to the extension of her arm over her head. Power radiated from her body with a punch, like she was the point of a bomb’s detonation. She heard the unmistakable spark of circuitry failing, followed by a crunchy thud as she landed.  _ Oops.  _ Five down, one out of commission for good.

She sprinted to the greatest challenge of the course, the whirs of the remaining two droids chasing behind her. Her target was a narrow gap between two dangerously close trees. She inhaled, crouched in momentum, and flung her body at the right tree with a grunt. Her foot planted on the solid, vertical wall of the trunk and she launched her self up and to her left, mirroring the action against the other trunk. She repeated this twice more, higher and higher, feeling the burning strain in her thighs, before the whirring practice droids zoomed into the exact right spot. The Force propelled her momentum, muscles screaming in release as she launched herself off the tree, arching her body backward in another wide flip. Her arms extended gracefully across her body, toes pointed, and she finally angled for a perfect landing. Her feet hit the soil silently, now behind the droids which had chased her.

With a triumphant smirk, she swung her saber in a curve across her right side, stopping just before it could slice through the little practice unit. She lifted her left hand and pushed a sliver of Force energy out, just enough to deactivate it. It powered down and lowered to the forest floor, defeated. Six down.

Rey’s eyes immediately scoured her surroundings for the final droid. But it was...nowhere.

Confused, with a heart rate inflated by the physical exertion, she turned about frantically. She gripped the lightsaber defensively, preparing for a sneak attack. Still, it was nowhere to be seen. Had she struck it already, and lost track? That couldn’t be, she was so centered this run. The final two droids always stuck together, every run, without fail. So perhaps this was part of Leia’s adjustment…

As if on cue, the final droid rounded a nearby trunk, just a few paces away. It hovered there, as though it were waiting for her. Then it zipped away, further into the forest at a frenzied speed. The final droid was  _ giving  _ chase?

Rey shook her head once and barreled after it, leaping over an increasing number of old fallen trees. The droid flitted about ahead of her, spinning occasionally to fire stuns at her. She parried every one, but failed to rebound the shots back at it.

Finally, it came to a dead halt in a small, mossy clearing. Rey slowed, rearing her saber back to practice a final strike. Simultaneously, the droid began an odd, wild spin, whirling at breakneck speed to the high-pitched whine of its blaster a second from firing.

Rey’s eyes widened in a panicked understanding. The droid was about to unleash hell. This would likely mean a series of aggravating bruises for her, bruises she didn’t need slowing her down. A fiery resolve solidified within her and she lowered the saber, instead throwing an arm up to the droid, rigid and brimming with potent Force energy.

The droid froze, whine dying with a mechanical sigh.

She felt a small spasm in her arm as she lowered the defeated unit to the ground. It touched the moss with a muffled thud and she let her arm swing down. The energy of the Force released itself from her body as her posture slumped. The dull soreness of her activity began its slow awakening in her muscles and joints.

She swiped her thumb over the lightsaber’s hilt and the crackling was silenced. The clean air of the forest rushed into her nostrils like a vice as she focused on the composure of her breath. She didn’t notice the beeping for a moment. Or the tendrils of the Force that remained in the air around her, whipping at her skin and thoughts to catch her attention.

_ Beep. _

Rey’s eyes fluttered open. The final droid sat where she left it on the mossy carpet, a green light blinking in accompaniment with the incessant beeping. Her brows furrowed in curiosity and confusion, and she knelt on the moss to inspect it.

“Do you feel it?”

Leia stood not too far behind her, watching.

“What is it?”

“Don’t search too hard, dear, just reach.”

Rey’s eyes narrowed at the droid and she raised a hand to brush across the smooth metal.

_ “With your feelings.” _

She couldn’t help the smirk that split her steely expression. The memory of her first lesson with Luke was a bit embarrassing for her, but amusing in retrospect. It seemed fitting to hear his twin sister repeat his words.

She closed her eyes and reached. The Force swirling about her prodded gently for entry into her subconscious, and she acquiesced, peeling the walls of her apprehension and doubt away.

A voice.

Not really a voice, but something that  _ spoke  _ to her, the way the Force did, was calling to her from beneath the earth. The feeling under her hand shifted from the metal shell of the droid to the soft bristles of the moss, and the voice called louder. The moss began to move away; she felt the palpable crumbles of the soil brush against her palm as the Force magnetized it to the voice.

Everything hummed to contented silence as a cool, cylindrical metal touched her skin. Her eyes blinked open and she found herself holding a lightsaber. She gasped. The hilt...it was nearly identical to Anakin’s. She scrambled for the broken saber, holding the two parallel to compare. There were a few discrepancies on the hilt she’d just unearthed. The vertical bars of the handgrip were longer, and the emitter shroud was black instead of silver, but apart from the minor cosmetic differences, it was a near match to the saber she held in comparison.

“I guess I was right again.”

Rey finally turned to face Leia, a thousand questions swimming in her eyes. The general smiled at her apprentice with pride and jarring sentimentality. Tears brimmed her warm brown eyes, and Rey felt her confusion hit a wall, an answer just on the other side.

“This isn’t…”

“Yes,” Leia nodded. “The lightsaber of Darth Vader.”

“But…” Rey blanched. “What do you mean you were right?”

“I know you’ll repair that crystal, I have no doubt,” she motioned to the broken saber. “But this year you’ve discovered more and more of yourself. You’ve been shedding expectations you’ve carried your whole life in favor of your own path. And you finally see it in yourself. You deserve a lightsaber of your  _ own,  _ Rey.”

Leia’s words touched a sensitive spot of longing and love Rey itched to have her whole life. The prideful love of a parent watching their child grow. The encouragement to embark on a journey of independence. Leia was not her mother, but she provided Rey with those moments she had so desperately wanted. As quickly as the sentiment of Leia’s words sank in, the reality of their scenario overtook it. She stood with a sad sigh, lightsabers gripped in the hands at her sides.

“This saber isn’t mine. Not to mention it’s a dark side weapon. Leia, I can’t.”

“No, dear,” Leia stepped toward her. She took Rey’s hand between both of hers, ring-adorned fingers resting delicately on Vader’s blade. “Not the saber. The crystal.”

Rey’s eyes met hers.

“You’re a smart and crafty young woman, and this crystal called to you. Take it and build it into a lightsaber all your own.”

Rey smiled, but a sliver of doubt still poked at her.

“Leia...I can’t very well have a red saber. That’s...it’s just...some people here don’t really trust me. I don’t think me, suddenly waving a red laser sword about will do much to help that.”

Leia huffed and rolled her eyes.

_ “Pfft,  _ that’s their problem. Don’t worry about how a few perceive you. You can’t please everyone.” She gave Rey’s hand a comforting squeeze. “Besides, it won’t be red.”

“What?”

Leia nodded.

“How?”

“You’re going to heal it.”

“Rey!”

“Hey, Rose,” Rey grinned at her friend. “Do you have a spare box?”

“Oh definitely, we’re pretty shorthanded right now.”

Rose nodded to the makeshift mechanic’s shelter, elbow deep in the outdated engine of an Imperial speeder, long abandoned on the moon after the Battle of Endor. Rey glanced at the shelter, a simple woven wood roof held fast on four thick posts. It housed several durasteel crates pulled from the Falcon and the cruisers they’d gained, filled with every tool and instrument an engineer could possibly need in their scenario. A couple other mechanics were digging through one of the open crates, searching for the proper piece to work on these old speeders with. Rey looked back at Rose, whose face was now scrunched in concentration, tongue sticking out just a tad from between her lips.

“Rosie, do you need any help?”

“Oh no! Not really,” Rose seemed to immediately overthink her words. “I mean, thank you, of course, but the schedule's kinda loose at the moment. We’re sort of just working on what  _ might  _ be helpful. These could come in handy. Plus you have all your Jedi training!”

“Okay, okay, if you change your mind, please don’t hesitate to call for me,” Rey giggled at Rose’s speedy train of thought, turning toward the shelter for tools.

“Is that what you need a box for?”

“Hmm?”

“Jedi stuff. Training. Is that what you need a box for?”

“Yeah, actually. Fixing lightsabers.”

Rose’s eyes sparkled with wonder.

“Woah, cool...I doubt you need help with that, but I’m happy to if you ever do.”

“You’d be the first person I call.”

The two friends exchanged another smile before Rey moved to the nearest crate of the shelter. Several tool boxes were stacked in neat compact, rows. She pulled one from the top and turned for her hut, offering polite goodbyes to the few mechanics there. There were really  _ so few. _ A thought crossed her mind.

“Hey Rose?”

Rose’s head swiveled and she huffed a loose strand of hair away from her face.

“What’s up?”

“Have you seen Poe? Or Finn?”

“No. They might be out at the Falcon. Glad Poe finally moved it.”

“Hmm. Me too.”

“Why?”

“Oh, just curious. It just seems...quiet today.”

Rose’s gaze drifted and she squinted her eyes, as though concentrating on a memory.

“You know, you’re right. I hadn’t really noticed until now,” she zoned back in on Rey. “Weird, huh?”

“Yeah.” Rey offered a parting smile, albeit a weak one, and headed for her hut.

It was warm when she arrived, having spent half a day drenched in the unfiltered sun. The pleasantness of the subtle golden heat distracted her from her muddled thoughts about Poe’s odd behavior that morning, doubled with the abnormal quiet of the Resistance’s acting base.

_ Stop being paranoid,  _ she chided herself. There were things to do, genuinely daunting and exciting things. Taking apart the lightsaber would be no problem. She wasn’t even worried about building her own hilt from scratch. It was the crystal, the bled kyber crystal in Vader’s saber that had her doubting herself. She’d didn’t know the red of a saber’s crystal was an unnatural process of dark Force power, or that it could be healed. She had failed so far to heal the broken crystal of Anakin’s blade, so her hopes weren’t high for this new one. But she had to try. Leia seemed confident she could do it.

With a determined sigh, Rey settled onto her cot and crossed her legs, unceremoniously dropping the box and dormant saber in front of her. She popped the lid of the box open and pulled out a screw, then brought it to the hilt and began gingerly taking the weapon apart. She was nearly halfway through all the bolts fastening the hilt when the sound and atmosphere around her zipped into a vacuum. A familiar signature permeated the Force around her.

Not now.

Rey stilled, wishing desperately it would just wither away. Something told her the possession of not one, but both of his grandfather’s lightsabers wouldn’t go over well. So she remained motionless, eyes trained on her occupied hands.

He didn’t say anything. She didn’t even feel his eyes on her. A thread of contained panic wove into her subconscious, and her shoulders eased a bit. This panic was not hers.

Slowly, she turned.

His back was to her. Bare. She realized the sight did not fluster her as it once did. Perhaps because there was nothing to deny. Or, at least, she was less adamant about her denial in these isolated moments.

He was standing, head bowed slightly as if preoccupied with something in front of him. Rey snatched the opportunity to map his shape while free from his rather personal gaze. She could see the faint lines of old scars across the planes of his muscles and the width of his shoulders. One long line of white stretched like a lightning bolt from his left side, emerging from the waistline of his black pants, all the way up and across to his right shoulder blade-

Rey’s brow furrowed in concentration.There was a new scar, red carved into his right tricep. She leaned her head forward and squinted, trying in vain to inspect the wound without moving. He shifted his weight  _ just so,  _ and the scar became clear.

Rey gasped.

It was her scar. From the throne room. The two linear cuts reaching for each other.

Her gaze flitted up to find her gasp had caught his attention. He was giving her his usual look over his shoulder, somehow both soft and intense. But his eyes betrayed the panic she had sensed when they connected.

It was silent for a moment as they stared at each other, neither daring to move or look away. Finally he turned completely to face her. She swallowed and ignored the rising temperature of her cheeks, eyes trained on his face.

“Are you safe?”  _ Damn him. _

“Yes,” she breathed. “Are you?”

He did not answer her.

“How’d you get that scar?” She turned her body completely and motioned at his right arm.

“Blaster.”

“Are you okay? What happened?”

“I’m fine,” his dismissive tone contrasted with his face. He looked at her like he was begging, like he was afraid, like he was…

_ Cornered. _

Her lips parted in surprise at the word, which ricocheted across the bond. Stems of worry began to rise within her.

“Ben…”

His eyes widened, rife with vulnerability. He looked at her like she was the only person in the galaxy. The heat in her face spread down her neck, her shoulders, her chest...it was too intense. She tore her gaze away from his face and finally allowed herself to focus on his broad chest, the hard planes of his abdomen...the heat gained speed as it plummeted into her stomach. Bad idea,  _ horrible  _ idea. Her eyes flitted about, desperately seeking a place to rest, when she noticed his right hand.

It was gloved.

This wouldn’t be unusual, except he was partially undressed. And his left hand was bare.

“What’s that about?”

The panic amplified.

“It’s nothing.”

“Ben,” she stood, a warning. The panic was nearly deafening now, and Rey’s worry responded.

“Rey, don’t.”

She marched forward, reaching for his right hand, when his left shot out and gripped her wrist. She turned a fiery gaze on him, fully prepared to berate him for his touch. His face was so close. And his eyes were suddenly glossed over, pleading with her to let it go. She softened, hand slackening in his gentle grip.

“Ben, please tell me. Please.”

He sighed, considering. Finally he released her wrist, and pulled, fingers trembling, at the leather on his right hand.

It was gone. The skin of his wrist was red and irritated where it ended and met the smooth silver metal of a prosthetic hand.

Rey gasped and her hands flew to her mouth in shock before grabbing, panicked, at his wrist. The metal was cool to the touch, and she heard Ben suck in a wincing breath as she ran a finger over the seam of skin. She withdrew her hands quickly at the sound, and her shock and panic erupted from her mouth.

“Ben,  _ what the fuck happened?  _ You cannot  _ possibly  _ be safe right now,  _ what happened?”  _ Her vision blurred with tears as her hands found his cheeks. She angled his face to look at her, and his expression tore a sob from her throat. He was eyeing her like  _ she’d  _ lost a hand.

“Rey,” he began, voice weak. “I have so much to tell you, but I need to see you. In person.”

“Don’t you dare,” she glared. “Don’t you  _ dare  _ talk around this with me. Who did this?”

He swallowed and paused a moment before focusing back on Rey.

“Things have...changed. Pretty dramatically. And we’re at the center of it.”

“What...what are you talking about?”

“Rey-”

He was gone. Her hands shook violently with the storm of anxiety and fear that was now drowning her. She dropped to her knees and allowed herself to cry, fisting her hands in her hair. Ben was in imminent danger and she didn’t know how the hell to help him. Not from here, at least.

The echo of distant soaring snapped her out of her trance, and she stood to face the window. In the distant sky, through breaks in the canopy, she spotted...no, it couldn’t be.

X-wings.

At least half the fleet. What the hell were they doing?

Her question was almost immediately answered by the unmistakable grating whine of a TIE Fighter. No. A fleet of TIE Fighters. The epiphany crashed into her with devastating truth. Poe’s odd behavior this morning. The silence of the base. The odd flickers of energy in the Force.

The Resistance had gone on the offensive, and she hadn’t known.

And now, the First Order was responding.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All Skywalker men must lose a hand. I don't make the rules.
> 
> Also don't worry, you will find out exactly how next chapter! Things are getting REAL


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kylo Ren accepts the truth of himself that is Ben Solo, but at a cost...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> some of this dialogue is a little corny and i am sorry

He was still shaking as he glided his ship through the Unknown Regions. The wayfinder was perched on the console, wired hastily to the navigation system.

The sentient obsession still fizzed and nagged at his brain, though now it had a new, more resolute tone and purpose. The Oracle had provided much of the answer he was looking for, but there was missing context. And it certainly hadn’t been what he was expecting.

He and Rey were a  _ dyad in the Force.  _ Something more powerful than the bond as they knew it. Kylo had initially believed it was forged from their status as equals; powerful light and powerful dark. Two notes which balanced the chord. But it turned out to be more than that. They were more than separate pieces meant to harmonize. More than the pieces which made up the chord. They were the chord itself.  _ One soul shared between two bodies.  _ Despite the profound upset of such a concept, Kylo accepted it immediately. It seemed...right. 

He’d felt an innate connection to Rey from the moment they met. Since before they met, really. The first mentions of her among the First Order had stirred something within him. And it had only grown stronger with time.

A wild reddish glow assaulted his sight, shaking him from his stupor. An angry, swirling nebula raged and spat against the black curtain of the void surrounding. Apprehension, determination, and understanding braided together in Kylo’s subconscious.

Of course it was beyond the nebula. The collection of gas and dust in the Unknown Regions was a violent and unpredictable, known to have killed or severely impaired the ships of the few who dared to venture through it. A planet beyond the nebula in close proximity would be perfectly hidden from the rest of the galaxy.

Kylo sucked in a breath and plunged into the rolling red clouds of the nebula. It was a daunting maneuver, but he was a skilled pilot, both in practice and blood. A snippet of guilt spiked through his focus, and he grunted in an effort not to lose himself. The Force was coursing through him, heightening his senses to potential perils in this stormy nebula. A piece of him worried the Knights wouldn’t make it through, but they were adept followers who had fallen into a tight formation behind him.

With one last sharp turn, the ships emerged from the storm, the stark stillness of the Unknown Regions somehow darker beyond the nebula.

The wayfinder seemed to hum and glow with acknowledgement as Kylo spotted a smooth, dark planet in the black surrounding him. It was almost imperceptible, like the sight of a new moon from a planet’s surface. But as the energy of the Force darkened and deepened within him, he knew with absolute certainty that he’d found Exegol.

The Knights of Ren glided to the planet’s atmosphere, which was either experiencing the nighttime of its cycle, or was perpetually tenebrous. Kylo did not doubt the latter. The desolate desert landscape was cast in soulless hues of the darkest blues and indigos. Erratic strokes of heat lightning assaulted the cracked, arid ground. There was no vegetation to be seen. No changes in topography or environment. The planet’s surface was an endless wasteland, a void stretching out beyond sight that provoked a fear of being stuck, alone, without escape.

Something large and vertical caught Kylo’s attention, and he refocused his gaze to observe an imposing utilitarian structure protruding from the earth. Its trapezoidal shape was roughly carved from dark stone, a ring of ominous light emanating from where it met the ground. The Sith Citadel.

He lead the Knights in landing, setting the ships down on the Citadel’s grounds. He dismounted from his TIE absentmindedly, eyes darting across the foreboding edifice in search of an entrypoint. As he approached, he found the source of light at the foot of the building was actually emerging from beneath it. The Citadel extended beyond this structure, which was suspended a good floor above the ground.

The darkness of the place enveloped him with each step he took, although it was...different. He was used to the grasp of dark Force energy. It fueled and pushed him with passion and fervor, like the hidden satisfaction beneath the pain of a burn. But this darkness did not push him. It was all-consuming, a menacing, sentient consciousness that was suffocating his mind.

He stopped, closing his eyes and centering his breath. He had control.  _ He had control. _

He turned. The Knights stood back by the ships, watching with apprehension and fingers hovered over weapons. They could feel this darkness, and for the first time in his life, Kylo sensed resolute fear from his companions.

But he wasn’t quite right.

What he misjudged was the placement of their fear. The hum of his obsession muffled his intuition, blinding him to the trap he was bound to walk into.

Kylo ignited his lightsaber, a wordless command. He turned back toward the Citadel and marched more purposefully into the opening, hearing the buzz of lightweapons activating and footsteps following behind him.

A circular stone lift, suspended by nothing visible, invited them into the depths of the dark cavern below.

The Citadel was a dim and ancient looking underground temple, lit by what he could only assume was artificial lighting striking between the imposing stone carvings. Sculptures of the Sith lords of history protruded from the grimy walls, hooded and sinister, watching him from hollowed eyes.

Their lift came to a rest on the rough stone ground of a primitive looking foyer. Arms of various corridors extended away from the open room, disappearing into shadow. Kylo furrowed his brow and managed to contain a frustrated grunt. His impatience was swelling with the incessant prodding of the obsessive voice in his brain.

_ It will call to you. _

His features softened and he closed his eyes, yielding to the thought. He dug his heels into the latent dark energy swirling about him and wove it with his increasing frustration, imploring the fervent push of the Force to lead him to the answers awaiting him.

In turn, the darkness seemed to mock him, seeping deeper into his mind with an iron grip, relinquishing no answers. He began to panic. How foolish could he be? This type of darkness would not give a little in exchange for what he gave. It would only take. It would keep taking until there was nothing left of him to be taken.

He could… _ no. _

He would not entreat the power of the light to guide him. Doing so would surely mean death in a place like this.

_ It will call to you. _

The thought repeated, a bit more amplified in response to his acknowledgement of the light. He fought the urge, grasping desperately for the fear of the consequences.

_ It will call to you. _

The Knights would kill him. He knew. There was no point in denying it anymore. He’d broken their trust with his fractured soul. They were conspiring with Hux. His days were numbered if he didn’t play his cards right.

_ It will call to you. _

They were strong. They would feel the light in him. They would see everything. His regrets, his guilt, Rey. They could kill him, but he’d be damned if they went after her.

_ “Ben.” _

That voice. It could not be. He opened his eyes and strained to contain his shock.

Han Solo stood before him.

High levels of anxiety screamed within him to be released, but he fought with breakneck effort to silence them. This couldn’t be real. Was it a test? Had his guilt finally driven him over the edge? Had it been let loose by the malignant Force energy of this planet, forcing him into the madness of his guilt?

Could the Knights see him too?

As discreetly as he possibly could, he brushed against the minds of his companions.There was the distrust he’d come to accept, the mutinous thoughts he’d suspected, and the trepidatious wonder at the caliber of the darkness around them, but the thoughts were still. Suspended. Confused, he risked a glance around. They were immobile. Time seemed to be...held still by the Force. This trance, his  _ father,  _ it was all in his head.

“It will call to you, Ben.” Han smiled sadly.

“Ben Solo is dead.”

“No he’s not. He’s my son, and he’s alive. Kylo Ren is dead.”

He swallowed, feeling his guilt and regret and  _ love  _ pushing its way out of the cage he’d locked it in for so long with unparalleled strength. He didn’t deserve Han’s encouragement, even if was only a figment of his imagination. Only a memory.

“I know what I have to do, but...I don’t know if I have the strength to do it.”

“You’re destined for good things, kid. I know you will.”

He nodded subtly, mind swimming with words unsaid.

“Dad…”

The words caught in his throat as his voice cracked and the dam finally broke. He cried, silently, looking into the forgiving eyes of his father.

_ I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I love you. _

Han reached to touch his son’s cheek. He offered his signature smirk, blended sweetly with compassion.

“I know.”

He blinked, and his father was gone. The feeling of his touch still lingered, warm and encouraging. He knew what he had to do. And despite himself, he knew he had the strength to do it.

He took in a stabilizing breath and closed his eyes again. Time had resumed as quickly as it had stalled, and the suffocating dark Force energy that engulfed the Citadel was instantly spiked with a blinding streak, impairing its oppressive power. The Knights would feel this, he knew. At this point, he didn’t care. His father’s eyes had pierced into every part of him, and he was filled with a sensation he hadn’t felt since the throne room, when he and Rey were in perfect harmony. The darkness was not eradicated from within him, it had yielded to the invading light, partnered with it, woven equally with the long dormant power.

He was Ben Solo. And he felt balance within him.

The Force zoomed through every fiber of his being at this acknowledgment, invigorating him to move forward, to find what he needed here, what would lead him back to Rey.

_ Yes. _

He felt the pull from down the corridor to his left, and he steeled himself to make a run for it, consequences be damned. There was a chance things could still go over smoothly. A slim chance. It would be a one in a million best case scenario.

The idea was dashed immediately.

“So Hux was right.”

Ben turned to face the Knights. They stood defensively, hand gripped over the hilts of weapons, ready for a fight. Vicrul stepped forward.

“You’ve lost your touch. Betrayed your calling.”

“And what was that?”

“Snoke was priming you to create a new order in the dark side. Something more powerful than the Sith could have ever wished to be. And you threw it all away. For a desert nobody.”

Ben bristled with barely contained fury at his former comrade’s addressing of Rey.

“Ah, so you did. How  _ unfortunate.  _ You could have been so great. All this power, all the mastery. It worked out so well that you were seeking out Exegol.” The Knight huffed a raspy laugh through the modulator of his helmet. “We were preparing to convince you.”

“Why is that?”

“Don’t you feel it,  _ Ben?” _

“No, I don’t,  _ Gil.” _

At the sound of his birth name, Vicrul stilled. A thick, tense moment passed before he sighed and reached for this helmet, activating the release and pulling it off his head to reveal a face Ben hadn’t seen in years. The face of a human man, long and gaunt and narrow. His smallish eyes bore into Ben beneath pale eyebrows and the straight, sandy brown hair that swept across his forehead. His grimace morphed into a dark smirk.

“The light is blinding then. It must be. If you can’t feel him.”

“Who?”

“Palpatine, of course.”

Ben nearly snorted.

“The same Palpatine who’s been famously dead for thirty years?”

“Yes.”

A nervous doubt began to thread itself into his resolve. He refused to let it show.

“No, he did not survive. But he was  _ the  _ Sith Lord. And he was well versed in the practice of transfer essence.”

Ben retreated into himself a bit. Transfer essence...it sounded familiar. He’d come across the term in his frantic search for answers about the bond. About the dyad.  _ Shit.  _ He kicked himself mentally for hardly skimming the resources at his disposal.

“So, what, there’s someone walking around the universe carrying the latent spirit of Palpatine?” His incredulous tone was dotted with venom, his defensive instincts prodding incessantly at his mind. Gil laughed humorlessly.

“Not quite. It was pretty botched; it wasn’t so much one person as it is...many people.” The Knights began to close in, all but explaining Gil’s cryptic inflection.

“All of you,” Ben nodded, understanding the gravity of this revelation. Not for him, but for the galaxy.

“It took years, yeah. He moved from body to body until Snoke.  _ Yeah,  _ he’s been watching you your whole life. Couldn’t ever get you though, not really. You’re pretty hard to crack. So when you killed Snoke - oh yes, everyone knows it was you - we offered ourselves.”

Gil’s casual tone was a cringey thing Ben hadn’t heard in years. He’d hardened since then, spoken less, focused on the kill. But in his early memories with the Knight, Gil had been an unsettling boy. The type to play with his food before eating it. And he relished the kill.

“You’ve been here before,” Ben muttered.

They inched closer.

“He needed Force users. Strong ones.”

Closer.

“You know for years he had his sights set on your Rey.”

Ben froze.

“Oh, you don’t like that,” Gil’s lips split into a sickly smile. “That’s what you came here to find out though, isn’t it? The truth about her, how her parents  _ really  _ died?”

At the mention of his intentions, the pull of the light down the corridor hummed to him, urged him to come for it.

“Well here’s the thing, Ben. You’re the only thing that stands in his way.” Simultaneously, the Knights raised their weapons in an offensive stance. “We could have kept you alive. To lead us to her. But this mission of yours...you’ve given us everything we need.” They stepped closer. “You murdered Snoke. You let the scavenger go. You ruined the First Order. You are a failure of the darkness. And now you’ll die for it.”

His anger mixed thickly with his resolve, the balance of the dark and the light pushing another layer of determination throughout his body. The Knights’ advance started to increase in speed, the tense movements of a strike winding up beginning to take form. Ben centered himself on the things which gave him hope. The manifestation of his father. Rey’s hand reaching for his over the light of a fire. The feelings he’d sensed from her through their last connection.

_ She is your destiny. _

With inimitable tenacity, he planted his feet in a wide stance, lightsaber hanging at his side. He raised one free, gloved hand and forced it toward the ground, feeling the Force energy explode from his fingertips with the impetus of a ship careening into the earth below. The energy blasted like an angry wind away from him, throwing the Knights violently every which way until each one of them met the hard stone of the surrounding walls.

Now was his chance.

Spinning left on his heels, he broke into a dead sprint down the corridor. It would only be a moment before the Knights were back on their feet and rushing after him, but this head start was vital nonetheless.

The shadows of the corridor enveloped him, the inconsistent flashes of light in the Citadel jarring his perspective. It dramatically heightened the agitated gravity of the scenario. Through the creeping anxiety, he clung to that little voice calling from down the corridor. It stabilized him, growing stronger with each stride he took.

Finally, Ben barrelled into another open chamber, pulsating light casting an erratic glow over the mess of Empire-era technology and abandoned paraphernalia. He skidded to a halt, eyes darting over the disorganized equipment, stacked crates, items cast carelessly to the ground. This must have been some sort of storage chamber, for things forgotten or useless, or simply in the way. The signature of what he was looking for hummed warmly within him, pushing him toward the finish line.  _ So close, you’re so close. _

The thundering of footsteps and angry whirs of lightweapons waving through the air provoked a defensive stance. He spun to face the corridor, a red glow illuminating the approaching Knights. Suddenly the situation felt more dire, more desperate, he realized he needed to find what he needed before the Knights caught up to him. Otherwise, he would have to kill them.

And he realized with some surprise...he really did not want to.

There wasn’t any sentimentality to it. The Knights of Ren were never really friends. There was a respectful comradery, but not one of them held any emotional weight in his heart. What caused the idea to fill him with dread was the inkling that doing so would set him back to square one. A significant crack in his conflict had just sealed, but he was still a broken man, his temporary assuredness in himself propelled only by his resolve and adrenaline.

Gripping his lightsaber in preparation for the worst, he turned about and flung his left hand out, searching for the energy of the signature calling to him. He stalled when his aim hovered over an old crate, stuffed into the crook of a rusted TIE shell. It was there.

He rushed to the crate, taking more effort than it should to slide the aged durasteel of the lid through its rusted tracks. Cracked glass, torn wires, and other broken pieces of the hollowed TIE collected haphazardly in the forgotten crate. Ben reached in, feeling a buzz spark against his fingertips. He hissed at the unforgiving edges of the shrapnel and glass scraping against his skin, but it all numbed as his fingers close around a small handle. He yanked his arm back, sending a few shards flying, to reveal an old, corroded dagger. 

The Force thrummed with contentment at his discovery, and he allowed himself a second to glance over it before the Knights were upon him. The chrome of the blade had long dulled to an opaque grey, stained a deep orange with rust. An uneven ruddy brown coated the dagger’s edges and tip. Long dried blood. A hauntingly familiar sense of loneliness flashed through his mind; the crippling fear of abandonment through the eyes of a young child.

Rey.

“Ben.”

He turned.

The Knights had caught up to him, stalking around the borders of the room to block any possible escape routes. Vicrul,  _ Gil,  _ had abandoned his helmet in the chase, vehemently staring Ben down as he approached.

“Hand it over, Ben. You’re not getting out of this.”

Ben raised his crackling saber to his shoulder, both hands tightening around the hilt.

“She’s not here to save you, Ben. The  _ light  _ can’t save you.” He sneered, taking one step closer. “You failed her, Ben. We’ll find her.  _ He  _ will find her. She  _ will  _ embody the dark side and give rise to a new empire.”

Ben bristled with unimpeded rage. How dare he mention her. How  _ dare  _ he threaten her life. The balance of the dark and light shifted cordially within him. The light stepped back, ushering the dark forward, the encouraging half of a partnership. He’d only experienced such an amiable balance within himself once before. The only other time he’d watched Rey’s life openly threatened before his eyes. In that moment, he knew he’d kill Snoke. And he’d never been so sure about anything else in his life.

Like hell Ben failed her.

He reared his saber back, swinging it down in an arc meant to maim. Gil responded a little too late, earning a searing gash across his side only deep enough to slow him. He stumbled, releasing a pained grunt and folding in on himself. The other Knights surged forward, lightweapons poised to kill.

Ben huffed and shrugged slightly.

_ Here we go. _

He swung his lightsaber wide around his head, bringing it down to meet Trudgen’s lightcleaver with a crackling clash. He threw his weight into his arms with a grunt, forcing Trudgen back so he could swing the saber around to split right down the center of Ap’lek’s lightscythe.

Well, that strike went better than he’d hoped.

He wielded his blade expertly, parrying each blow from the Knights. This fight was dangerously flecked with more close calls than he’d experienced before, despite his superior skill and utilization of the Force energy punctuating his every move. He knew it was the result of the transfer; a piece of Sheev Palpatine possessing each Knight, heightening their mastery of dark Force power.

Ben pressed the charge backward, searching for the first opportunity to make a dash for the corridor.

The Knights were relentless. His raw strength gave him an edge over them, but he was still merely human, and began to slow. Exhaustion was beginning its siege of his muscles and joints. His breathing was growing ragged. They just kept coming.

Frustration began to boil within his core at a rapid rate. The blade of Gil’s lightaxe swiped within a hair of his collarbone, scorching into the thick fabric of his tabard. He stumbled over the low swing of Cardo’s lightwhip, catching himself against the wall with an exasperated grunt. He spun to find he was cornered again, Gil’s eyes filled with sadistic triumph. He would not go down like this. He owed it to Rey. To keep her safe, no matter the cost.

With as much concentration as he could muster in this chaotic situation, Ben channeled the energy of the Force within him like a windstorm across the topography of his muscles and in the currents of his veins until it was rushing out through his fingertips. The Knights flew back as though they were caught in the blast of a bomb, each and every one of them hurtling into the walls and abandoned crates and tech with clamorous thuds and crashes.

He darted for the corridor, stalling just a moment with the realization that he’d need more time for a clean getaway. He’d have to trap them. 

The single moment of distraction was all Gil needed.

Ben felt him charging, feral and furious, just as he was about to bring the frame of the corridor entry crumbling to the ground. He spun, meeting Gil’s startlingly close and crazed glare. His lightsaber rocketed up to block the blow, but the axe didn’t meet-

A blinding pain ripped through every nerve in Ben’s body, radiating from his right wrist. The red glow of his blurring vision shifted as his saber fell from his grip...no, as the hand bearing his saber was severed from his wrist.

The Force broke into chaos within him, screeching and scrambling for any sense of control in his weakened state. It took one moment for the gravity of the pain to catch up with him. It was  _ agonizing,  _ both hot and stabbing. He grunted, hyperventilating, until a ragged roar ripped from his throat.

Gil was already winding back for the killing blow. Delirious and blinded by pain and fury, Ben gracelessly threw his intact arm up, rendering Gil rigid and motionless. The cruel smile splitting his features seized in panic, and Ben took it as his cue to  _ finish this. _

He thrust his shaking arm down with the weight of a whole Star Destroyer, bringing the ancient stone of the ceiling down with a deafening rumble. Gil was lost to the debris, still rigid under Ben’s grasp.

When the final crumbling settled and a dead silence fell over the corridor, Ben slumped, shaking, finally giving into the shock. He sank fully to the ground, hugging his botched wrist and curling around himself.

He’d lost his hand.  _ He’d lost his fucking hand.  _ His breaths came out wheezing and ragged, trying to contain the speed of his heart which threatened to burst from his ribcage. The red glow cast about the corridor drew his still blurry vision to where his lightsaber had landed. Blinking the delirium from his eyes, his vision settled on the cold, pale form of his severed hand.

The sight set him back, shooting pins of hysteria back into his skin. His breathing grew more frantic. His head started to grow woozy and heavy…

_ No. No no no no. _

Ben shook himself, attempting to force the process of shock along hastily. He hadn’t died. This was fixable. He needed to seal the wound and get back to the ship  _ as soon as possible.  _ As he tugged the cape from his shoulders and struggled to tear pieces away with just one hand, he considered the adversity of his plan. Returning to the  _ Steadfast  _ certainly wasn’t ideal. The Knights had been conspiring with Hux, that much had become clear to him. Even if the rest of the First Order had no involvement, they were loyal to Hux. More so than him. It would only be a matter of time before there was a bounty on his head.

But that’s all he needed. A little time. He could move in the shadows if he really needed to, although it likely wouldn’t be necessary. If Rey could sneak around Starkiller Base with almost no knowledge of her strength in the Force, he could grab a medical droid, get fixed up, and slip out before anyone really noticed. And he would have to slip out. He knew that.

Every cell in his body screamed as he stumbled to his feet, tying off the makeshift bandage tightly around the now numb stump of his wrist. He pocketed the dagger, scooped up his saber, and deactivated it before clipping it to his belt. It felt strange in his left hand.

He began to stumble back to the lift, leaving his severed hand and the remnants of his cloak behind in the debris.

Ben cast a glance over his shoulder as the medical droid fastened the last nuts and bolts into the cuff tightening around his wrist. He winced at the pinch of the cuff settling in place, and finally, he felt mobility. It was weird. Like every sensation was veiled in a thin fabric. But it wasn’t at all unpleasant. Certainly relieving.

He eyed the smooth steel prosthetic hand as it flexed and moved, the synthetic nerves and wired veins connecting to the organic nerves of his wrist with surprising seamlessness. It was an impressive thing, steel plates cut for movement and flexibility across the back of the hand and fingers, while a softer, pliant, synthetic black material encased the palm in a convincing imitation of skin. It was better than he could have hoped for.

His pleased smirk melted into a frown as his gaze passed over the cuff, where the seam of the hand met his skin. It was red and aggravated, angry from the loss and irritation of a new material to accommodate to. The skin was raw and ugly, a long journey of healing to be had yet. He hated the sight of it.

Dismissing the medical droid, he stalked to the column of drawers built into the bedside wall of his chamber. He pulled open one of the lower drawers and withdrew a right-handed glove, which he slipped onto his new hand. The sensation of the leather felt  _ different,  _ almost heightened. It was nice and cool against the synthetic material wired into his nerves.

His gaze snapped to the door as the droid left, half expecting to see an armed Hux with a brigade of stormtroopers. But the coast was clear and the door slid shut.

There was a limited window of time for him to grab what he needed and hustle back to the hangar without word of his arrival reaching Hux. He’d already eyed the freighter he’d take. He had known he’d need a roomier ship if he was going rogue. And...he was.

Ben had no plan beyond take a ship and leave.

And find Rey. Those details had yet to work themselves out though.

He knew he’d have Hux on his heels. The Knights too, possibly. The chance they’d maneuvered their way out of his blockade was likely. It was a temporary thing and they were practiced in the Force.

He needed to disappear. Fast.

The remnants of Exegol still clung to him in sweat and blood and the unsightly tears into his tabard. He hadn’t come across a single person after his landing. Although, the route he’d taken to his quarters had been a little more hidden and less direct. And he’d taken the standard TIE Fighter one of the Knights had flown to avoid acknowledgement of his arrival...so maybe he was playing it safer than he needed to. He could afford one minute in the fresher.

The belt and tabard were all but ripped from his torso, and his muscles screamed in protest as he stretched to pull the base sweater over his head. His fingers drifted to the waistband of his pants when he noticed the angled lump in the left pocket.  _ The dagger. _

He pulled it from his pocket to examine, rust flaking off under his touch. It buzzed quietly with Force energy. There was something it meant to tell him, but how to access it, to bridge the communication barrier, he didn’t know. Perhaps it worked like a kyber crystal, an object meant to be fed with feelings or intentions. Some sliver of certainly nestled within him. That felt right. It was just like what he learned in training all those years ago.

Ben closed his eyes and took a moment to focus on his breath. The pieces of his psyche, his soul, and the energy thrumming within him aligned, and he chose something to focus on. Something that anchored him.  _ Someone  _ who anchored him.

_ Rey. _

A hazy vision began to take shape in his mind, all bright sandy brown and sky blue. The blurry figure of a woman began to clear. Tears in her eyes, her arms wrapped around a young girl, both with hair tied up in three buns…

The white noise of the ship was sucked into a vacuum, dragging the vision with it.

No,  _ no.  _ Not now.

Ben stilled, gripped by the fear of what she might see in his head, how it might hurt her. While he was certain the appendage still tucked into a glove would startle her, he was more concerned about her seeing what he’d just seen. The subject of her parents was so touchy. He didn’t want to hurt her.

He didn’t say anything. She didn’t either. But he could feel she was tense, frozen just as he was.

After a moment, he heard a shifting sound and the unmistakable squeak of an old mattress. Her gaze was on him. He could feel it.

Ben considered how he should greet her.  _ If  _ he should greet her. No, that was a stupid thought, of course he should. What about the dagger? She was a curious person, she’d definitely ask him about it. He could tell her, and they could find out together...no. He needed to know. And he needed to be with her, physically sharing space with her, for them to move forward. For him to keep her safe. It felt as though _that_ _ was the way. _ So he shifted, discreetly pocketing the dagger.

Rey gasped.

Finally he turned to face her, and immediately he battled the awestruck sensation within him from becoming present on his face. She was perched on a ledge in his quarters, almost certainly her bed wherever she was. Her body was turned away from him, but her head was angled over her shoulder, face cast in that ethereal wonderment which haunted his hours.

Her hair was different, half tied up in a bun, half cascading down her back. When had it gotten so long? It looked so soft, and it framed her face so beautifully. He’d never felt such an urge to rush forward and touch it outside of his dreams and daydreams.

Rey had changed her outfit too, and to his satisfaction, it was  _ dark.  _ He fought the smirk threatening to crack his facade.

After a moment, he decided he’d break the silence. He always did.

“Are you safe?”

Her face reddened just a touch.

“Yes,” she breathed. “Are you?”

Panic. How could he answer that? What could he say? He refused to lie to her, but he wasn’t sure how to ease her into the chaos that had been the last standard day.

“How’d you get that scar?” She interrupted the cacophony in his head and turned her body toward him, dropping something he couldn’t see behind her. The muscles in his neck tensed at the more detailed sight of the black jumpsuit fitting her lithe frame. He did not allow himself to gaze at the v-neckline of the garment. 

Rey motioned at his right arm to punctuate her question. It was the scar he'd gotten on Mustafar. The one they now shared.

“Blaster.”

“Are you okay? What happened?”

“I’m fine,” he shut her down, hoping desperately she’d adhere to the message he was trying to send. He had to run, he had to find her. His former subordinates were turning on him, and it was only a matter of time before they came for his head. If he didn’t leave soon, he might not make it. He’d be cornered.

Her expression changed dramatically as her lips parted in surprise.

Oh no. He’d projected that. And she’d caught it.

“Ben…”

His eyes widened at her, and he felt his heart swell, insides melting to the sound of her voice. He’d hated that name growing up. He still wasn’t fond of it, despite the whirlwind of change he’d just been through. But when Rey said his name, it sounded like a song. Like he was named for her to call to him. He’d never felt...

Suddenly, she broke eye contact and her gaze shifted down. He struggled to fight another prideful smirk as her cheeks turned beet red. Her eyes darted about, searching for a safe piece of him to rest on. Her brow furrowed.

“What’s that about?”

Ben followed her gaze to his right hand. Oh no. No. No. No.

“It’s nothing.”

_ Liar. You promised yourself you’d never lie to her. _

“Ben,” she stood, a warning. She was  _ worried. _

“Rey, don’t.”

He couldn’t face her reaction to this. He wouldn’t be able to handle it if she was disgusted by his disfigurement. Even less so if she was afraid for him.

But Rey would not be deterred. She marched forward, reaching for his hand. His left shot out on response, firmly but gently gripping her wrist. She turned that spunky, fiery gaze on him and her face was  _ so close.  _ The weight she held in his soul crashed into him all over again, and he did not fight the tears he could feel glossing over his eyes. Her expression softened into something relenting, hand slackening in his gentle grip.

“Ben, please tell me. Please.”

He sighed, considering. Finally he released her wrist, and pulled, fingers trembling, at the leather on his right hand.

Rey’s eyes flew wide in terror and she gasped, her hands flying to her mouth. A second later they were grabbing, panicked, at his wrist. Her wide eyes darted over the prosthesis, and she ran a finger past the cuff, over the irritated seam of skin. It stung, and he could not hold back the audible breath he sucked in. She withdrew her hands quickly at the sound, eyes meeting his, and her distress exploded from her mouth.

“Ben,  _ what the fuck happened?  _ You cannot  _ possibly  _ be safe right now,  _ what happened?”  _ Her eyes glossed over with tears. He hadn’t even opened his mouth to respond before she closed the small distance between them and her hands found his cheeks. She angled his face to look at her, shoulders shaking with a sob. She was afraid for him,  _ concerned  _ for him. She cared about him.

“Rey,” he began, voice weak. “I have so much to tell you, but I need to see you.”

“Don’t you dare,” she glared. “Don’t you  _ dare  _ talk around this with me. Who did this?”

He swallowed and paused a moment before focusing back on Rey.

“Things have...changed. Pretty dramatically. And we’re at the center of it.”

“What...what are you talking about?”

“Rey-”

She was gone.

Ben released a shaky breath, half relief and half devastation. He couldn’t leave her like that. She was hurting. For  _ him.  _ He didn’t deserve that. And her touch…

He shook himself from the longing thought, heart still heavy from their interaction. He had to protect her. He had to get off this damn ship. He owed her at least that much.

He'd be damned if he let even a sliver of Palpatine anywhere near her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Early in the plot redemption is a road I wished the movie had taken. I plan to flesh Ben out more, bring out some of that Solo charm. Plus who doesn't like the idea of rogue Ben?  
> The Knights of Ren have weird names so I wanted them to be like Ben and have real names they changed. Based on Wookieepedia, Vicrul seemed more leader-ish than the rest of the Knights. I modeled him in this story to appear like Matt Smith, bc remember when Matt Smith was rumored to be in episode IX? That would have been cool.  
> Coming up next, Rey feels betrayed and Ben learns more about her!  
> Thank you for reading :)))))


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rey confronts Leia about her motives before connecting with Ben and planning their next step together. Meanwhile, Ben grapples with his anxiety over her safety and the truth he has learned of her parents...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is 100% a plot vehicle and I'm not super proud of the writing, stylistically speaking. But! This chapter is vital to the story and I hope you enjoy. And thank you SO MUCH for your comments and kudos, they make me smile!!!

The first explosions hit a good distance from the base, but the impact shook the earth and trees all the same.

Rey was sloppily spinning the bolts of Vader’s lightsaber back into place, eyes frantically darting back and forth between the window and the hilt. Their exact location hadn’t been revealed yet under the concealment of the redwood canopy. It was clear the fleet was keeping the TIE Fighters at bay, firing defensive shots and flying in zig-zag patterns. They were warning the base, giving them an opportunity to  _ get out. _

The final bolt fastened into place and Rey hastily clipped the saber to her belt with Anakin’s. She then sprinted for the chest in her hut, snatching her pack, canteen, and Jedi texts from the lid. She shoved the items into the old pack gracelessly, mind racing beneath the practical cover she’d cast over it. Escape first. Find her friends, find Leia, board the Falcon, and leave.

Only then would she entertain the confused, betrayed feelings bouncing around in her head.

Rey’s eyes darted over her hut one more time, checking for anything she might have forgotten. A pang of sadness hit her chest. The Resistance hadn’t been on Endor long, but she’d grown attached to the comfort of this little hut. It was her sanctuary on this lush moon, away from the pressure and the tension and uncertainty about the future. She could hold herself and breathe and  _ rest. _

It was the first time she realized she felt contentment with being alone.

Swallowing her emotions, she turned and left the hut, breaking into a sprint across the rickety bridge. The base was in complete distress, fraught voices shouting over one another in a plethora of languages. Ewoks and Resistance members alike dashed about the tree village in an effort to rush an escape. Several Ewoks scurried past her, weapons brandished. Her eyes darted to the forest floor, where she spotted a frantic Rose dismounting a freshly patched-up speeder for an Ewok to take. The pang of sadness returned as soon as it had left.

The Resistance would escape this moon, possibly even unscathed. But Endor was home to the Ewoks, and the chances this incredible tree village would be destroyed were very high. They didn’t deserve that. All they had done was help, shown kindness and hospitality with an air of warmth the Resistance seldom came across anymore. Her sadness twisted into guilt at the thought.

_ “Hey!” _

Rey’s attention was drawn to the Ewokese greeting accompanied by a tug on her arm. A grey-spotted Ewok stood at her side, peering up at her with a small, fluffy hand wrapped around her wrist. 

_ “Leia,”  _ he murmured.  _ “She needs you.” _

Rey’s eyes blew wide and she nodded in thanks before continuing her sprint across the bridges and balconies, winding around the wide circumference of the trees toward Leia’s hut. She threw the door open, panting, to find it empty. The shrill whine of TIE guns growing closer went straight to her nerves.

Rey spun on her heels, eyes darting over the juxtaposition of natural beauty and chaos. Mechanics sprinted past under the impressive command of Rose’s voice, lugging crates and parts in the direction of their hidden cruisers as Rose directed. 

Kaydel Connix crossed through the village in a dead sprint, rolls and rolls of blueprint tucked haphazardly under one arm, packed rucksack slung over the other. BB-8 rolled speedily after her, beeping incessantly that she’d certainly drop something.

No Leia though. Perhaps she was already on the Falcon. Hopefully. But what if she wasn’t?

“Leia!” Rey’s voice was shrill with panic and she could feel the fear reverberating against her bones.

_ “Rey,”  _ The Wookiee roar caught Rey’s attention with a start. She hurried to the other side of the balcony to find Chewie standing on the ground beneath it, a solemn Leia cradled in his giant arms. The panic expelled itself from her body as she exhaled, shoulders sagging softly.

_ “I’ve got her, don’t worry.  _ You  _ get to the Falcon, we’ll meet you there.” _

“You’d better!”

She sucked in a calming breath, took one bracing step back, and hurtled herself over the wooden railing with a graceful flip, landing nimbly on the balls of her feet. She adjusted her pack and broke into a run straight for the rocky dugout the Falcon had been relocated to.

A loud whine pierced her eardrums and the ground shook, causing her to stumble. They had found the base. They were firing now. She chanced a look over her shoulder, finding to her relief that Chewie and Leia were right on her heels.

_ “Keep going, Rey!” _

Her fingers skimmed over the neighboring lightsabers on her belt as she turned back to her course. She hoped with everything she had that she wouldn’t have to draw one.

Rey braced her legs against the steepening topography and lifted her arms to her face as the brush thickened. With a slight stumble and a throw of her hands, she pushed aside the offending foliage and crossed into the shaded spot where the cruisers were hidden. Except...there was only one.

She skidded to a halt to take the scene in, scanning the scene for the magnifying questions in her head. A startlingly small group of Resistance members were hurriedly loading their entire base onto the craft. From the cruiser’s viewport, she could see Beaumont Kin rush to the pilot’s seat, hands undoubtedly moving to the controls as the cruiser began to hum lowly in a warmup. Rose had beaten her there somehow, expertly directing the flow of their impending departure, despite her clear stress. The other cruiser was gone, likely long gone, and only about twenty people were loading and boarding this remaining ship. The absence at the scene was more than just the fleet. Everything seemed to line up, pointing to the answer she desperately wished couldn’t be true.

_ “Rey, keep going!”  _ Chewie was right behind her, nodding her along as Leia strained her neck to observe the state of her team.

“Where’s the other cruiser?” Rey spun to face him, already knowing the answer. “Where is everyone?”

Leia turned her head back toward her apprentice, eyes apologetic.

“You know.”

“Why?” She bit out, cringing inwardly at how much betrayal she’d let slip into her voice.

“I’ll explain everything on the Falcon, Rey, I promise. We have to get out of here.”

Rey’s lips tightened into a line. She offered an unsatisfied and curt nod before turning to continue her run. She chastised herself the whole way. Leia had only ever been patient, kind, and understanding with Rey over the year. Particularly when she was at her worst; when her frustration boiled over and the dark took hold, or when she told Leia of her bond with Ben. And here she was, casting her frustration the general’s way. She didn’t deserve that.

The Falcon came into view, tucked into the rocky clearing of a dried-out ravine. She sprinted up the ramp and darted straight for the pilot’s seat, Chewie hot on her heels. The old ship was just humming to life when she heard a gentle  _ thank you, Chewie  _ behind her and the Wookiee appeared next to her.

“Anyone else?” She glanced his way.

_ “They’re all on the cruiser.” _

She nodded, certain the Falcon’s current crew of three was a purposeful decision. The freighter lifted from the ground, moving deftly upward until it burst through the canopy.

The open sky was chaos. The cruiser was already off, tailed defensively by three X-wings, while the rest of the fleet darted about, shooting down TIEs and warding them off of the larger ships and the Ewok village. Rey was relieved to see no X-wings were meeting any fateful gun blasts, but the relief was soon overtaken by urgency as the TIEs turned their attention on the Falcon. The most recognizable ship in the galaxy at this point, probably.

“Chewie,” Rey’s voice quivered with barely bottled stress. “Take over for me, I’m manning the guns.”

The Wookiee was already steering the ship, and she made a break for the runner’s chair. She passed a solemn looking Leia, who stood at the entrance of the cockpit, watching the frenzy around them.

“Leia, sit down and strap in, this’ll be rough!”

Rey dropped into the gunner’s chair and pulled the headset on. She was suddenly angry as her fingers gripped the controls, eyes darting about the TIE formation quickly approaching. This was a response to a Resistance attack, she felt the truth of that in her gut. But the resolve with which the TIE Fighters pursued the Falcon the  _ moment  _ it appeared...it screamed Kylo Ren.

And so she was angry, with every fiber of her being. Every time he gave her hope, he dashed it moments later with an idiotic decision, one which he expected would pull her in. Even though every time, the results were the same.

But she knew that wasn’t it. She’d just seen him,  _ hand gone,  _ with a color to his Force signature she admonished herself for hoping for. Ben Solo had nothing to do with this attack, and she knew that. She knew it without question.

And so she was angry, so angry, with how much she knew this wasn’t him. Because that meant the First Order was operating under the maniacal fist of Armitage Hux. And it could have very well meant that Ben was as good as dead.

Her shoulders shook with the force of the gun as TIE after TIE exploded in the air. She shot down the offending ships, X-wings coming to her aid, as the Falcon ascended further into the stratosphere. TIE Fighters were relentless but they weren’t terribly difficult to take down. It was a matter of stamina with them, and at the moment stamina wasn’t a concern of Rey’s. Her churning anger expelled itself through the gun, down to the very last TIE.

The star-speckled curtain of space enveloped the ship as they hurtled from the planet’s atmosphere.

_ “Hold tight, Rey,”  _ Chewie’s voice garbled from her headset.  _ “We’re jumping to hyperspace.” _

Rey sank back into the chair with a sigh, just as the stars began to streak and the weight of the propulsion pressed against her body. Once they fully adjusted to light speed, she lifted herself from the gunner’s seat and meandered back to the cockpit.

“Rey.”

A gentle hand shot out to touch her wrist as she passed the dejarik table, startling a yelp from her. Leia sat in the booth, looking up at her with kind eyes and an apologetic smile.

“Please sit.”

Rey acquiesced, rounding the table and sliding into the half-arc booth to face Leia. The general placed her hands on top of Rey’s.

“I owe you an explanation,” Leia began, eyes cast down at their hands. “I sanctioned an attack on the First Order’s occupation of Coruscant.”

_ “Why?” _

“We have allies there, more than we possibly could have hoped for. Since the occupation, the citizens of Coruscant have moved underground, forming small groups of rebellion with the intent of taking their planet back.”

She paused and Rey could only stare, processing the weight of what she’d just heard, and the implications for their future, for the First Order...for Ben.

“We’ve been communicating with them via pirate comm systems, and that’s how we planned this attack. They fixed up old Empire artillery and planted it around First Order postings. We got the signal this morning, and the fleet took off to defend the citizens, to shoot down any air strikes the First Order might sanction. Unfortunately, there was...miscommunication. I lost control. A city’s been destroyed and the First Order caught on to the plan. We were followed here, and now I’m afraid the war has taken a violent turn again.”

Leia met Rey’s eyes, awaiting her response. She looked...guilty. Frazzled, sad, and  _ guilty.  _ Rey couldn’t respond just yet. Her mind was racing as the scenario sunk in. This was bad. This was  _ really bad.  _ Beyond the war, this was bad for Leia. The older woman’s health was declining every day. And every day, Rey sensed her regret through the soft hum of the Force. Her regret over her choices, over her son.

But this attack...the Resistance going on the  _ offense,  _ it just didn’t make sense.

“You sanctioned an attack on Coruscant.”

“Yes.”

“But nothing’s changed there. Just the presence of the First Order.”

“Yes,” Leia responded, more hesitantly.

“As an overview.”

“Yes.”

“More of a formality.”

“Yes, Rey,” she sighed. “What’s bothering you?”

“Why?  _ Why  _ did you attack? Things have been tense, yeah, but we’ve had  _ no interactions  _ for a  _ year.  _ We’ve been able to grow, and now all of that is thrown away.”

“Things were bound to boil over at one point-”

“This isn’t the Resistance I know! Do I even know it? Really, do I?” Rey stared at her incredulously. “You didn’t even tell me.”

“I know you feel betrayed, and you absolutely should-”

“Poe’s out there, I know it. Finn is too, isn’t he?”

“Yes. The fleet was crucial-”

_ “I’m part of the fleet.  _ I’m a great pilot, you  _ know  _ I am,” Rey paused, allowing enough room for Leia to speak. She didn’t. The mention of Poe shot an ugly epiphany into her brain. “Why didn’t he ask me to come along on this one?”

“We were training, Rey, he knows-”

“No,  _ no,  _ he’s  _ always  _ bugging me to take a break and help out with ‘real stuff.’ I saw him this morning, Leia. He didn’t ask.”

The general sighed. She shifted her hands back to Rey’s, which flinched away stubbornly. Leia sighed again and cast her an impatient look. Rey conceded, sliding her hands back into Leia’s.

“Rey, you know Poe’s an ass sometimes.”

She nodded.

“He’s being an ass now. He’s a little unsettled by your strength.”

The betrayal drove deeper into Rey’s heart as a lump rocketed up her throat. She grit her teeth against the barely concealed sobs, but her teary eyes betrayed her. Poe had done this before. Why did it hurt so much now?

“Leia... _ really... _ why didn’t you tell me? Why this violence? It’s unlike you.”

The older woman let her head drop slowly, thinking. Her grip began to tighten around Rey’s hands, to the point of squeezing pain. Something was wrong.

“Leia,” Rey wriggled her hands from the general’s grasp and replaced them on her shoulders. “What’s wrong? What is it?”

She lifted her head. Her face was the picture of broken desperation. It was red with fresh tears running down her cheeks, eyes glossed over in deep sorrow. And fear.

“The First Order…is planning to kill my son.”

Rey leaned back. So many things clicked into place. Just as many continued their frenzied scuttle about her mind. Someone in the First Order had already made an attempt on his life. And it had cost him his hand. She was suddenly consumed with worrisome fear, the same suffocating feeling she’d had the moment he showed her his prosthesis. The consternation was balanced by a naive and inappropriately timed feeling of hope. But the hope had blossomed into something more startling. Vindication. Even as she admonished herself for reveling in it, she knew she had been right. Ben had turned. Or he would turn. Or he was in the process of turning. Regardless, she knew he was no longer the dark side’s pawn. This was more than good and evil now.

“We intercepted a signal yesterday, plans of mutiny. Just a snippet of it. The signal was rather weak. Something had to be done. Beyond losing Ben, the First Order would fall under the command of Armitage Hux. Violence was inevitable. Rey, I know you have mixed feelings about him, and I know he’s been conditioned to do awful things, and he’s done them, but he is my  _ son.  _ I’ll be damned if I let anyone kill my child.”

“He survived,” the words left her lips before she could even process how to tell his mother.

“What?” Leia’s eyes widened, and the hope diluting the confusion in her eyes broke Rey’s heart just a bit.

“We, uh, connected. Right before fleeing Endor. An assassination’s already been attempted. He got out.”

“What happened? Who did this?”

“I don’t...I don’t really know. It was a short connection, and I was rather shocked for most of it because of the-” She cut herself off, mortified to tell Leia her child had been mutilated. She had to though, the general would get it out of her regardless of how much she avoided it.

“Because of the what, Rey?”

“Well, you see, he’s...he’s lost a hand.”

The general stared silently, face unreadable.

“He was attacked. He made it out but it cost him his hand. It’s been replaced already, but I didn’t get any details about what exactly happened. I sort of went into hysterics when I saw it.”

Leia snorted, eliciting a shocked little jump from Rey.

“I’m sorry,” she chuckled softly. “It just seems like that’s a curse for Skywalker men.”

Rey felt her shoulders sag as she huffed an uncomfortable laugh. Once again, she found herself envying Leia’s grace under stressful situations. She shouldn’t, she knew that. But the general had such an effortless strength, such mastery of her impulses and emotions. Spitting everything out and bottling everything up were the only options Rey had ever practiced when it came to her emotions. Every day, the latter became more arduous and the former became more impossible.

She couldn’t lash out around the Resistance, not when people were getting  _ a little unsettled by her strength,  _ and she couldn’t bottle everything up, not with Ben catapulting back into her daily life with a hammer swinging straight at the glass.

“You really care about him, don’t you?”

Embarrassment warmed her from the inside out as she met Leia’s eyes.

“I’m no fool, Rey. I’m glad you do. It gives me even more hope for him.”

“I’m not sure that’s wise.”

Leia swatted lightly at Rey’s shoulder.

“Please. If anyone can turn his head, it’s you. While he’s certainly more brooding than Han ever was, he  _ is  _ Han’s son.”

Rey’s face grew impossibly hotter. What was Leia insinuating? That was a stupid question, she knew  _ exactly  _ what Leia was insinuating. Maybe letting her mind’s walls go slack over the year hadn’t been such a good idea. With a meek smile cast Leia’s way, she shuffled from the booth and rose to her feet.

“Well, I’m gonna get going on this saber,” she touched the Sith blade on her belt. “Where are we headed now?”

“Cloud City, Bespin.”

“Oh,” Rey murmured. “That’s rather public.”

“The First Order has no hold on Bespin. Never even really attempted. Old family friend.”

Rey frowned, nodding slowly. She didn’t like the sound of this.

“He’s a significant figure in the city, Rey. Ben wouldn’t mess with him, despite everything. We  _ will  _ be safe there, at least for the time being. Don’t worry so much.”

She relaxed a bit at the clarification and offered Leia a parting smile. The older woman smirked in response and waved her off lazily. She bit back a grin at the feisty mannerism, but couldn’t shake the ugly feeling in the pit of her stomach. The lingering disappointment of being the last to know, of being left out of the plan, tugged at the seams of her isolation wounds. Despite Leia’s vulnerability with her just a moment prior, she had been purposefully kept out of the loop. 

The stitches tore open as she relented to a painful truth: she was not trusted.

She padded down the rounding corridor before slipping into the quarters she’d claimed as her own over the last year. Rey was looking forward to the alone time. What a welcome distraction it would be from this feeling; just her, centering herself and working to the comforting white noise of the Falcon. The door slid open and its mechanical hiss was zipped into a vacuum.

She would not be alone.

Ben sat on her bed.

He must have showered. His hair was perfect again, in that effortless, imperfect way, and his skin looked smooth and clean. He’d changed too. Still black boots, black pants...but all he wore around his torso was a sweater. Probably black too, but it could have been a very deep charcoal grey. She couldn’t quite tell from where she stood. It looked large and simple and comfortable and  _ endearing. _

She set her jaw, forcing away the adoring smile that threatened to break across her face.

He was looking at her already, hunched over just a bit, hands gripping the edge of her mattress. He looked so tired, so small. It seemed odd to describe Ben Solo as  _ small,  _ but Rey had seen it before. Multiple times. And perhaps she was the only one who ever truly had.

“Did you defect?” She murmured, forgetting to fight the softness which claimed her voice.

He shifted, lips pursing. Rey’s stomach felt flighty and hot at the sight. Her mind shook with embarrassment at the feeling, like she’d been caught. But he didn’t seem to notice her discomposure. He just maintained his concentrated facade for a moment.

“Not quite,” he answered, meeting her eyes again.

She deflated a little. That, he noticed.

Ben stood suddenly, causing her to startle a bit. He took only one step closer to Rey, peering intently into her eyes. He was looking at her that way again. Like she was the only other person in the galaxy.

“I was going to,” his voice was impossibly gentle. “They just...beat me to it. I really was going to. For you.”

She shivered, despite the low boiling of the heat in her stomach.

“Were you planning on joining the Resistance?” Her voice was barely a whisper.

This time he deflated, visibly. His brows knit together in an awkward and uncomfortable type of frustration. Rey brushed her mind against his, just a touch. Impatience. Hurt. Fear. He was fighting it.

“The Resistance attacked the First Order,” she continued. “Just now.”

His eyebrows raised just a bit, curious and confused.

“They didn’t tell me.”

She couldn’t keep the spit of pain out of her voice. Ben’s face instantly hardened with understanding. The betrayed lump she’d forced back down her throat came crawling up again, and Rey realized she wanted to let it go. She needed to. She felt safe doing it here.

“They’re afraid of me. They don’t trust me. And now everything’s fucked up again and people are dying.”

“Are you safe?” He took another step toward her.

“Yeah.”

“Where are you?”

“On the Falcon.”

“Where are you going?”

“Ben,” she sighed, exasperated. “Come on.”

“We’re past this Rey. I’m out here on my own. No ties to anything. My only priority is  _ you.” _

Her lips parted in surprise. She was used to Ben being forward, but not this raw. It was a bit jarring.

“There are things I need to tell you.”

Another step.

“Why can’t you just tell me now?”

“Because it’s big, Rey. I need to be there in case…” his eyes cast down as he frowned, rolling his unspoken words around in his mouth.

“In case what, Ben?”

“The bond isn’t reliable. This...it’ll be a lot to take in. This connection, it cuts off at random. We have no control. I just,” he nervously ran a hand through his dark hair, “I need to see you.”

He took another step toward her. The distance between them was a mere reach of the arm. She watched the gentle rise and fall of his chest, his distress unguarded to her mind.

“Ben...I have to see this next step through. For your mother’s sake.”

He tensed at the mention of Leia. Rey suddenly saw an opportunity, a piece of love he’d been missing, something to entice him to the light further.

“She sanctioned the attack.”

Ben’s brow furrowed deeper.

“That doesn’t sound like her,” he muttered, glancing down at his feet. His voice was small and strained with a specific pain Rey couldn’t place the origin of.

“She did it for you.”

His eyes snapped back up to hers, wide and disbelieving.

“She intercepted a signal. There were plans of a mutiny against you, and she sent the whole fleet to aid rebels on Coruscant to destroy the base.”

Rey paused, peering at him expectantly. He just continued to stare at her, completely speechless. The mask of disbelief remained rigid on his pale face. She inhaled softly, took a hesitant step closer, and reached across the threaded bridge of their minds. His was a discord of thick, heavy emotions and doubts; long repressed memories and feelings crashing onto the shore of his subconscious.

_ She does love you. No, she doesn’t. She’s your mother. She’s a general. She loves you. This is a trap. She’s saving face. She loves you. She’s afraid of you. She loves you. You took everything from her. She loves you. She’ll always love you. _

Rey retreated quickly, overwhelmed by the flood of open vulnerability and afraid she’d pressed in too far. But Ben held her gaze, eyes softened from bewilderment to a new color of perplexity. It was like he understood what she’d done, how she  _ felt,  _ but he did not allow himself to feel deserving of it. Like a heartbreaking brand of modesty.

“Ben, I’m-”

“Don’t, it’s okay.”

“Ben-”

“I’m glad you told me. Thank you. Please...please make sure she’s safe.”

Rey nodded. She caught movement in her periphery and nearly jumped, only to find it was her own arm. It was reaching for his hand, seemingly of its own accord. Her mind raced in a panic,  _ you are crossing a line,  _ but her soul fluttered with contentment. The Force hummed pleasantly within and around her, and she slid her fingers across the smooth, silicon skin of his new palm. He flinched just a hair, surprised by her boldness, but leaned into her touch, wrapping the artificial fingers around her small hand.

_ You’re not alone. _

The air grew to a comfortable, spring-like warmth which freshened her lungs and felt cool and buttery against her skin. A subtle vibration slid up her spine and washed over her shoulders, dancing across her nerves with a gentle, feathery touch. This felt right.

“Rey,” he continued, thumb tracing mindlessly over the back of her hand, “I still need to see you. When you’re ready. I need to keep you safe.”

“I can handle Hux.”

“This is bigger than Hux. It’s bigger than the Resistance and the First Order. There is a threat to the galaxy beyond this war and I can’t let it get to you.”

“What about you?”

“I don’t matter to this.”

“That’s bull-”

“I don’t. Not to them. Not anymore. You’re important, Rey, you always have been. I need to tell you everything and we  _ need to work together. _ We’re one. A dyad in the Force. I will do everything in my power to protect you.”

“Ben…”

“We share a soul, Rey. They don’t know that about us yet. I have to protect you from that.”

Rey’s eyes widened with realization. That word,  _ dyad,  _ Ben had spoken it to her in that odd voice in her dream.

“I dreamt you told me this,” she breathed. “In a voice that wasn’t yours. That we were a dyad. What is it?”

“It’s our bond. It wasn’t forged by Snoke or us. It’s the will of the Force that you and I are connected, as one, across time and space.”

“We...share a soul.”

“Yes.”

Her mind was racing. All the ambiguity became clear to her now; the innate connection to him, their equality in power, her perpetual and disquieting comfort with his company, and her unfettered trust in him. She had ascribed all of it to the bond, but _this,_ this was so much deeper, so much rawer and more arcane. She was promptly aware that a part of her had always known, and only in this moment did it all finally click.

“I’ll meet you. Soon, I promise. Find somewhere…” She blanked, scrambling for a planet which would ensure Ben’s safety until she could reach him.

He was leaning in, brow furrowed gently in worry.

“Ach-To.”

“What?”

“You’ve seen it. In my head. The island, remember?” She took his left hand in hers. “See now?”

She projected the memory of angry waves crashing against the rocky, idyllic island. She showed him the tree, the temple, the cave…

Ben leaned into her touch further, understanding.

“I see it.”

“Go. I’ll come to you,” she squeezed his hand gently. “Please be safe, Ben. Please.”

He nodded, and vanished.

The tangibility of the room returned to her, and she sank onto her bed, mind reeling from their interaction. It wasn’t so much what was said that struck her, as it was the certainty with which she knew Kylo Ren was absolutely and unequivocally gone forever.

-

Ben sat back down on the bed of his freighter’s sleeping quarters as the streaked stars of hyperspace zoomed past in the viewport. His knee began bouncing immediately, restless and nervous after what he’d disclosed to Rey. She’d been so receiving, so open and trusting.

She’d taken his hand.

She had reached out, without prompting, and slid her fingers across his palm. He knew it was a gesture of comfort and confidence, but she’d still done it. Exactly what he’d wanted her to do one year prior. Perhaps they were finally past the tense and occasionally violent scepticism of the past. Perhaps they were moving on to something...more.

He abruptly realized he dreaded finally seeing her.

The developments he needed to share with her would be difficult. He didn’t know how she’d handle them. No, that wasn’t quite right. He knew she’d be shocked by the news of Palpatine, and rightfully fearful of his desire to possess her. But Rey was a fighter and an optimist. She’d want to march right into hell and face the old menace down. Even as he swore to protect her from it, he already knew she’d insist on fighting back.

What Ben really dreaded was revealing what he’d just learned about her, only moments before they had connected.

The low thrum of the Force tracing the old dagger had beckoned to him. He had put it off as he slipped through the corridors of the  _ Steadfast.  _ He had ignored it as he boarded the freighter unseen. He had set it aside as he moved from the hangar, panicked and angry voices popping in over the comm before he disconnected it. He had barred his mind from it as he jumped into hyperspace, just before a legion of TIEs could scramble after him.

But soon enough he was safe and alone. And he could no longer ignore its call.

He had meandered back to the sleeping quarters, twisting the rusty blade over between his fingers, before dropping down onto his mattress and centering his intentions.

_ Rey. _

Soon enough, the energy encompassed him and the scene returned.

“It’s okay, baby, it’s okay.”

She clutched her daughter to her chest, the winds outside whipping the flaps of the tent against her back.

“It’s time to be brave, my little bird,” she pulled away and looked her daughter in the eyes. Rey was too young for this. Too precious. But she would give her life to keep her only baby safe. Without hesitation.

“Balin!”

Dom appeared in the tent, immediately dropping to his knees next to her.

“It’s time, love.”

“No!” Rey squealed, and Balin’s vision blurred with fresh tears. “Papa, please, I’m scared.”

He looped his arms tightly around his wife and daughter.

“I know, little bird. It’s okay to be scared. We won’t be gone long, just back in a few minutes. You’re safe here. We’ll always protect you from the monsters, remember?”

Rey sniffed and nodded.

“You’re the bravest girl I’ve ever known, Rey. We just need to scare the monsters away one more time, okay?”

She nodded again. Her father stood, choking back a sob. His eyes lingered on Rey for another moment, one heavy, earnest moment, before he turned and exited the tent, fingers reaching for the blaster on his belt. Balin smoothed a hand over her daughter’s head, stopping at each bun to lovingly tug.

“You must be strong, Rey,” her hands moved to the girl’s cheeks. “I’ll come back for you in a bit. I promise.”

She hoped, with every fiber of her being, that she would live to see that promise through. She stood and turned toward the rude man her husband had paid only minutes before.

“You’ll keep her hidden for the time being,” she stated, voice hardening protectively.

“You paid me, didn’t you?”

“If,  _ if  _ they make it here,” she glanced back at Rey before lowering her voice, “you tell them we arrived here childless, looking for a place to hide, which you refused. Do you understand, Plutt?”

He sighed impassively.

“You paid me, didn’t you?”

She nodded curtly before turning back to Rey and scooping her up in a tight hug.

“I love you, Rey. I’ll come back for you.”

“Please don’t go, Mama.”

Balin’s heart broke as she set her daughter down. Unkar Plutt tugged a stiff woven rug aside with his foot, revealing a sandy trap door.

“Down here, girl.”

“Mama, please!”

“Rey, be brave. Please hide,  _ please. _ I love you so much.”

Her daughter cried, but eventually conceded. She padded over to the small wooden door and paused. She flung around, throwing her tiny arms around her mother’s legs in one last hug.

“I love you, Mama.”

“I love you forever, little bird.”

With one final stroke across Rey’s scalp, Balin turned and exited the tent. Her body resisted, screaming at her to go back, to curl around her baby and protect her with her own body. But she knew that would only get Rey killed. She had to separate herself from her daughter. At least until the cultists gave up.

Dom stood waiting outside, red-eyed, cheeks stained with tears. He draped a comforting arm around his wife’s shoulders as she tugged her hood onto her head. They began to walk.

“I don’t like that we’re separated,” she sniffed.

“I don’t either. We have no choice at this point.”

“Why did it have to be Jakku? If we had made it to Lah’mu, I would feel much more comfortable letting her off alone.”

“I know, love. But they found us here. We’ll make our way back to her. We have to.”

As if on cue, a group of hooded figures stalked around the corner of a nearby tent. The wind whipped sand in a monotonous spiral around their legs as they moved, brandishing staff-like weapons. A crackling sound split the air as the tip of each staff ignited with some sort of built-in electrocurrent, zapping frenzied sparks from its source.

“Now, Dom!”

Dom whipped out his blaster and shot, rounding his wrist with the pull of the trigger. An expertly curved bolt hurtled cleanly into the crowd of cultists. The piercing sound of the bolt tearing through a surface ripped through the atmosphere three consecutive times, followed by the collapse of three hooded bodies. The physical disruption broke the unit’s concentration, and Balin seized her chance.

Her hand snaked under her cape, behind her back, and pulled out, revealing a T-7 ion disruptor rifle. She hoisted it with both arms to the level of her shoulder, aimed, and fired with an angry huff. The blast hit the cultist front and center, who instantly expelled an agonizing shriek as they began to crumple and wither. Their body was disintegrating, bending in grotesque and unnatural ways with a series of sickly snaps.

She swallowed the unnerved tension in her neck and aimed again. And again. And again. And again, as Dom rounded more shots into the crowd, taking out three or more cultists per blast. The air was almost unbearable with the horrid screaming and snapping and gurgling of cultists deteriorating atom by atom.

When the last shriek grew hoarse and withered to nothing, when all that remained was a collection of fallen bodies and empty robes, Balin spun to face her husband. He was smiling at her, proud of her bravery. Proud they’d protected their baby.

“Dom,” she faltered. “The ship. We have to destroy it.”

His eyes widened in understanding. This had been too easy. There had to be more reinforcements here, more powerful forces seeking Rey. The family had been chased across the galaxy since her infancy, and had hid successfully on a handful of planets throughout the Outer Rim and Unknown Regions. But as Rey had grown, so had her strength. It had become a beacon to anyone attempting to seek it, and she didn’t know how to control it. She didn’t even know what it was. Rey had no idea she was imbued with great power in that ancient Force.

It had never been in the family, not on Dom’s side or Balin’s side. Still, Rey was strong. She glowed with it. Balin had actually thought it a myth until her daughter began to...radiate.

And now they’d been cornered on Jakku, just stopping to refuel their cruiser.

They could only fight back. And if they could destroy the cultist’s ship, take away any chance they had to escape and circle back later, they could get away free. At least for a little while. So Dom and Balin sprinted through Niima Outpost, straight into the desert clearing where the various visiting ships were parked.

It was unmistakable; dark, imperial, foreboding. The ramp extended from the ship to the ground, beckoning them closer. Balin skidded to a halt and raised the disruptor in a perfect aim. She closed one eye, zoning her view into a precise point, finger ghosting over the trigger-

_ Zap. _

Currents of electricity coursed through her body and she seized up, her insides shaking violently within her rigid frame, before she collapsed. She’d been stunned. Dom was rushing to her side before he too went rigid and fell.

_ No. _

An angry grip tightened under her arms and she felt her body dragged through the sand.

_ No. _

Rey wouldn’t be safe. Not if she couldn’t escape this. Not if she and Dom couldn’t end this. Her mind screamed at her unresponsive body fight back, to even  _ move,  _ but to no avail. The only thing she felt was the wet stream of tears running down her face.

Her eyes hurt as they adjusted from the harsh sun to the dim artificial lighting of the ship, and she felt the cool durasteel of the ship’s floor sliding along her motionless palm. She came to stop in an indiscernible chamber, only the repeating fluorescent bulbs lining the ceiling in her view. The hands abandoned their grip under her arms, and she was alone.

Balin released a guttural wail, both of anguished fear for her daughter and determination to save her. It wasn’t supposed to go this way. She could not,  _ would not  _ leave Rey alone on this hellish planet.

The feeling returned to her nerves in slow tingles which washed over every inch of her body, and she forced herself up on her elbows. The ship was stark and practical, exactly what she expected the interior of an imperial ship to be. She hoisted herself up to her knees, then stood, wobbling, on her still sleeping feet.

Dom was being dragged in, now able to move and fighting the orange-skinned humanoid dragging him by the arms. Their captor struggled to throw Dom at his wife, but he managed and Dom stumbled into Balin, instantly wrapping a protective arm around her front.

The alien that captured them closed in, large, black, beady eyes boring into each of them with malicious intent. She’d heard of him. Ochi. A Sith cultist, high ranking and obsessively loyal to the deceased Palpatine.

“Dom and Balin Nemina,” he croaked in a monstrously tinny voice. “Where has your little bird flown off to?”

“We lost her because of you,” Balin sobbed.

Ochi’s lipless mouth cracked into a menacing smile.

“That’s not true is it?”

“She’s  _ dead,”  _ Dom snarled. “She got an infection. Can’t stop to heal her when we’re being hunted. Balin did the best she could, but  _ Rey is dead.” _

His voice cracked on the last word. It tore them apart to claim their daughter as dead, despite the lack of truth behind it. If only they had made it a little further, if they had waited to refuel until absolutely necessary, maybe the circumstances wouldn’t be so dire. But they had stumbled. They had faltered. And that moment of distraction was all Palpatine needed. They were cornered. This was the only way to save her.

Ochi’s smile faltered, for just a flash, before morphing into a resolved smirk.

“Well,” he huffed. “Then you’re of no use anymore.”

With a jerk of his arm, a dagger went flying into Dom’s abdomen.

His eyes widened in shock and he fell, leaning heavily against his wife. Balin screamed, clutching him and desperately tearing at her cape, hoping in vain she could seal the wound. She was blinded by an unforgiving mixture of grief and panic; so blinded, she missed Ochi leaning over and yanking the knife from Dom’s abdomen. She only realized her fate a second after it befelled her, and a stabbing pain shot through her body, radiating from the crook of her neck and her shoulder. A thick, warm wetness blanketed her torso, sinking deep into her garments and her skin.

She fell against the floor and felt Dom’s shaking arms wrap around her, pulling her close until his lips rested against her forehead. The air was permeated with the sound of the ship roaring to life. Moments later, she felt her surroundings move. They were flying. Flying away from Rey. Balin’s heart tore further as her surroundings grew blurred and fuzzy. Her little bird didn’t deserve this. She deserved love. She deserved parents who wouldn’t leave her like this.

But she would live. She would grow up strong and become something greater than Balin and Dom could ever hope for.

Rey Nemina was strong with the Force. And it would keep her safe.

“She’s safe,” he whispered against her skin. “She’s safe. She’s safe, she’s safe, she’s safe…”

Her husband repeated the mantra, over and over again until everything faded away.

Ben had withdrawn from the dagger when the vision faded.

This was what he was afraid of. He had been wrong about her parents. They had been reckless with her safety, and hadn’t sold her, although they may as well have, but they loved her. It was something Rey had accepted as false, after nearly fifteen years of desperate hope.

He didn’t know how she’d handle the emotional gravity of her parent’s fate, knowing they loved her and were truly planning to come back for her. And selfishly, he was afraid to see her pain.

Ben sighed and ran a hand through his hair, shoulders sagging. He’d face this when the time came. In the meantime, he needed to set a course for Ahch-To. Then maybe he could finally get some genuine rest.

As he ambled back to the pilot’s seat, his mind mumbled her full name over and over again like a prayer.

_ Rey Nemina. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> REY'S LAST NAME  
> She's still Rey Nobody. Literally. Nemina is derived from the Latin neminem, which means nobody. Sort of like Solo.......


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ben's arrival on Ahch-To leads him to an encounter with a familiar face. Rey accepts his help and urges him to open up to her more.

The most prominent sensation he felt when he disembarked from the freighter was the smell. Thick, wild, salty ocean smell, accompanied by the crashing of the waves upon the rock. Ahch-To possessed a rugged kind of beauty; a pure, untouched nature balanced by the abrasive and rugged outcroppings of dark and jagged stone. Blankets of the greenest mossy grass draped over the rough terrain, further serving image of juxtaposition the island was painting for him.

He realized it reminded him of Rey. Beautiful but formidable, gentle but fearsome. The most fascinating mix of idyllic splendor and steely defenses.

The island was quiet as he climbed the roughly-carved rocky steps to the cluster of small stone huts. He knew this was an ancient Jedi island, and although it was abandoned, he could feel the latent Force energy radiating from the center of this island. It whispered with knowledge, the same type of knowing, seeing sensation he experienced when he met the Oracle. This energy was a little different, a little more lingering and less immediately sentient. And there was a hiss, a low, rolling ribbon of darkness, threaded within the ambling breath of ancient Jedi energy. Ben could feel it under his feet, all the way beneath the layers and layers of stone, in a shaded alcove below the island. An image flashed in his mind, a recent memory gifted to him in a gesture of care and trust.

The cave.

He stalled on the steps, overcome with the urge to wander straight to it, to understand its siren call. It had something...something dire to him, he could feel it. Something he needed.

He shook his head, focusing back on his immediate surroundings.

This low, vibrating pull was likely just a test of will. Although Rey had confronted it. He remembered this with new clarity as he abandoned the steps at the cluster of huts. He remembered because it was the first time she’d ever opened up to him, the first time she’d offered her vulnerability to him, and he’d offered his in response. He remembered because when their fingers met, he was brought to her, to this odd island, in the rainy night before Luke had appeared and destroyed their peace.

“I wondered when you’d get here.”

Ben froze. He had to have imagined it. But no, that all too familiar Force signature prodded against his consciousness like a nuisance. He tensed and locked his face in a scowl before turning his head toward the hut closest to the cliff’s edge.

Floating translucent in a subtle blue glow, hair and beard long, robes the color of sand, was Luke Skywalker. The late Jedi smirked at his nephew.

“Hey, kid.”

“You’ve  _ got  _ to be kidding me,” Ben muttered.

“What did I tell you?” Luke approached with a comfortable familiarity, which only stoked Ben’s barely bottled anger. “‘See you around, kid.’ I told you so.”

Ben huffed an irritated sigh through his nose, eyes scanning anything that wasn’t his uncle’s ghost.

“Hey, look at that,” Luke’s apparition hand casually took hold of his nephew’s right wrist before he could protest. It was an odd sensation; a real, tangible touch, but cold and airy, like the force of a strong wind on a summery day. Ben refused to meet his eye. “Looks like the men of our family really are cursed, huh?”

He laughed, and the last feeble thread of Ben’s patience snapped.

_ “Stop it,” _ he snapped, finally glaring into Luke’s eyes. “Stop acting like everything’s okay between us. Just because you’re dead doesn’t mean I’ve forgiven you.”

Luke’s laissez faire familiarity dropped with a relenting sigh. He released Ben’s wrist, face hardening in a grim acceptance, a deep, sincere sorrow.

“I know. You shouldn’t really. I failed you, Ben.”

He didn’t respond, only held his uncle’s gaze. The wounded anger which had lived inside him for six years suddenly felt less ground to stand on. Luke’s remorse hadn’t been something he expected to see so immediately, and he was strangely disappointed he couldn’t revel in his anger like he’d planned. So the stubborn scrap of his mind took over, and he kept his mouth shut.

“I basically raised you for thirteen years. I was supposed to keep you safe. Instead, I more or less shipped you off to the exact danger I was trying to protect you from.”

“You were my hero, Luke,” Ben’s voice was hoarse. Luke’s eyes widened at the confession. It was something he’d never believed could be true, and it hurt to know how deep his betrayal had cut Ben. “For so many of those years I was missing the influence of my father,  _ you  _ became my hero. I wanted to be just like you. Why’d you have to ruin it all?”

Luke took one step closer and placed a chilly, translucent hand on his nephew’s shoulder.

“Because I was a failure. That is my greatest regret. I wish more than anything I could take it all back, that I could have seen past my hubris and trusted you.”

Ben looked down and nodded curtly. He didn’t know if he could trust Luke’s apology. Not that it mattered now, the old Jedi was dead. Still, that didn’t erase the six year old scar of betrayal. He didn’t want to think about it anymore. Even if his uncle was making efforts to amend for his past transgressions, that wound was deep. Luke was the last of his family to turn away from him. That thought still stung too much.

“Well,” Luke’s voice had regained its forced easygoing tambor. “See you around, kid.”

“No,  _ no,  _ don’t do that-” Ben began to retort, but Luke had vanished already. He groaned in frustration and finished his trek to the farthest hut. The view was breathtaking; the salty blue battle of wave against wave, an ocean as far as the eye could see. The lower cliff edges descending down the side of the island in organic tiers were spotted with blankets of moss and grass. They were brighter from this aerial view, more saturated in the direct light of the sun.

The sensory impact of the idyllic scene roused an upward tug at the corners of his lips, which he actively fought against, as though it would be embarrassing to be caught in such a complacent state. With a last sweeping view from his vantage point, he turned and pushed the hut’s door open. It certainly wasn’t built for someone of his height. He ducked under the frame, huffing an exasperated breath. The stone structure rounded in a dome shape, giving him room to stand to his full height with a few inches to spare.

It was just as he remembered.

It was primitive in style, relying only on natural light streaming in from a few narrow windows. A fire pit sat in the center of the shelter, for evening light and warmth. Two mismatched woven baskets framed the dormant pit, lidded and large and sturdy enough to function as stools. Behind them, beneath the largest window against the far wall, was a long, low rectangle of stone, covered in a thicket of moss which crawled in through the window. A bed, he supposed.

It was almost an exact replica of the hut Rey had stayed in when she had reached out to him.

The baskets were a little different in size and style, the makeshift bed was larger, and the moss was a whimsical variation, but the similarities amplified the memory all the same.

Ben dropped the single bag he’d taken from his shoulder and inspected the baskets, finding each was stuffed with old, wooly blankets. He replaced the lids and dropped onto the larger basket, assessing what he could do in the meantime. 

For the first time in a few whirlwind days, the silence in his mind gained an intense gravity. It pounced on him, like it had been waiting for him to have a moment of complete solitude that it could ruin. He had nowhere to run, nothing else to do besides wait for Rey. And she would be a while. Danger could find her before she made it to him. The Knights of Ren could reach her. The thought curled around him and he latched onto it, obsessing over everything that could go wrong while he just...waited.

_ If any harm comes to her, it will be your fault. _

His fingers dug into his knees. The Knights had fled Exegol by now, he was certain of that. He swore at himself. Why couldn’t he have killed them when he had the chance? What a stupid, reckless mistake. How dare he criticize her parents for their recklessness when he was no better? His adrenaline-addled mind had been influenced by the light in during that confrontation, and he had gone out of his way to spare their lives. He could have ended it right there and ensured safety for Rey. And the galaxy. But he gave into the light when he needed to give into the dark.

The dichotomy was devastating. There would be no winners in this tug of war. There had to be another way, a balance between the two...the Oracle’s words rang in his head.  _ A balance in the Force.  _ It was Rey and him. They’d have to figure out this balance together.

The wary intention was still overshadowed by his immediate obsessive fear.

Rey had to make it here first. And there was too much room for chance to intervene. He knew she could take care of herself. Hell, she’d kicked his ass more times than not. But that sadistic sliver of chance still poked and prodded at his attention, and all he could think about was the Knights of Ren crossing her path. She could fight. She  _ would  _ fight, were the scenario to become that dire. But if they hurt her, if any one of them even  _ touched  _ the woman he...the woman he…

Ben shook his head vigorously, heart pounding against his ribcage as though it were trying urgently to escape. His whole body felt hot, from his skin to the marrow in his bones. He stood abruptly, toppling the woven basket over with the force of his movement. His hands carded through his hair as he began to pace. This was too much for him.

What had he been doing? What had he been thinking about? He desperately needed the distraction. A weight was settling on his chest as his heart fought tooth and nail to escape its confines.

He’d have to catch his food. 

Ben stopped pacing and placed a trembling hand over his heart, panting. The thought shot out of the blue and he latched onto it, diving into the practicality of such a task. This island, this planet, was next to untouched. There was no market he could buy produce from, only the natural, unrestrained resources around him.

He’d have to catch his food. The idea became more inviting the longer he thought about it. Fishing could be meditative. An exercise in precision and focus. He needed focus, critically. And water...he’d need to find a fresh source. As he mentally listed the ventures he’d need to take to survive, Ben realized the overarching intention. He would need to connect with the island. Thoroughly.

He cringed a bit, wishing for Rey’s company and guidance in light of the latent Jedi spirit of the place. But he couldn’t rely on her. It wouldn’t be fair to her or to himself. Ben had a long way to go before the years of turmoil settled within him.

A finger twitched and his awareness shifted to his palm. His breathing had steadied. His heart beat steadily, synced with the muffled whoosh of the distant waves outside. He closed his eyes, focusing on the calming rush of the ocean sounds which anchored him. Every breath was controlled; in deeply, out slowly. The waves entered through his ears and wrapped themselves around him like a protective blanket from within. This was the feeling he’d needed so many times before. This purity, calm and centered. He’d been focused, but never truly calm. It was a mere facade nearly all his life, a stoic shell encasing the violent and turbulent whispers and imagery forced into his mind.

Another wave whooshed to its full height.

Another crashed against the low, jagged rocks down the island.

Another swirled low, gaining momentum from the currents beneath the surface before it would leap into the wind.

And in a moment, it was all sucked out of the atmosphere. A rounded, palpable silence swallowed the consistent whooshing, and his reverie was broken.

Ben opened his eyes to find Rey exactly where he’d expected her, perched in a cross-legged seat on his mossy bed.

She was fiddling with his grandfather’s lightsaber. Except...it was just  _ slightly  _ different. A little more black than he remembered. His eyes moved to her side, where a brown leather belt wrapped around her waist, another lightsaber clipped on. It was all silver and a little beat up looking, a messy melding seam encircling the middle of the hilt.

She did indeed have his grandfather’s lightsaber. Both of them.

The realization diluted his recently calmed demeanor with an ugly strain of jealousy. He frowned at himself, ashamed of the petty reaction. He’d pushed past the arrogance of his entitlement to the weapon. It had called to her on Takonda. It had responded to her the first time they fought over it. The second time, it was destroyed, split in half by their matched power. It wasn’t his unless it called to him, he accepted that. But it just felt like another rejection. The saber was a piece of his family, and she possessed it. Just as she possessed Leia’s affection, Luke’s confidence, and Han’s admiration.

And now she had Vader’s saber too.

It was stupid of him to be jealous, but he simply was. And it urged him to retreat into himself.

“Where did you get that?” He broke the silence, tone even.

She jolted, dropping the hilt onto the moss in front of her. Her eyes met his and her shoulders relaxed as she placed a steadying hand over her heart.

“You startled me,” she sighed, eyes closing beneath a furrowed brow.

“That’s Vader’s lightsaber.”

“Yes.”

“Where’d you get it?”

She eyed him, recoiling just a bit as though she were unimpressed with his tone.

“Why?”

“Because I’m curious, Rey,” a sliver of impatience sharpened the edge of his words.

“What’s wrong?” She sounded incredulous.

“What do you mean? Why do you sound upset?”

“You’re being short,” her voice raised, defensive. “We’ve only just connected and you’re acting noticeably different from the last time I saw you. What’s wrong?”

“ _ Nothing _ , I just want to know  _ how  _ you got that and  _ what  _ you’re doing to it.”

Rey’s eyes were wide with insulted bewilderment. She stood from her seated position, hands clenched into tight fists at her side.

“What has gotten into you?” She strode forward, glaring into his stubborn mask with fire in her eyes.

“Nothing, Rey, just...forget it,” he put his hands up and sighed. 

Bad move.  _ Horrible  _ move. Her eyes grew impossibly wider, and he felt the fire beginning to stoke at the threads of their connection as he once again caught  _ the audacity  _ flung loudly from her mind. She was a nanosecond from verbally tearing him apart. That wasn’t what he intended. Why did he have to do this, to upset her so easily?

“I’m sorry,” he said, cutting off the words hanging on her tongue. He opened himself up a bit, giving her a clear window into his shame, his jealousy. It wouldn’t justify his tone, but he wanted her to understand his apology was earnest, to trust him.

Her eyes softened and she clamped her jaw shut, but her brow remained furrowed in irritation. After a moment of silence, she sighed and broke eye contact.

“Ben...stop doing this to yourself.”

He pressed his lips together, unsure of how to respond.

“You put your worth in legacy. Stop it. It’ll only hurt you.”

“You stop it too,” he murmured before he could stop himself. She glanced back at him, wary, on the precipice of hurt feelings. He rushed to clarify. “You don’t have to prove yourself to anyone.”

“Neither do you.”

Something inside him grew soft and willowy. The bridge of their connection shifted from thickly woven threads to a meandering stream, circulating pleasantly between their minds. The parallel to their last connection on this planet was not lost on him.

“Did you make it to Ahch-To?”

“I’m here now.”

She nodded subtly. A silence stretched between them, laced with the remnants of tension leftover from their recent words. Despite the uneasy thickness it gave the air, they held each other’s eyes. Her brows had softened into a vulnerable slight upturn. It changed something about her, something which thickened the atmosphere even more and restricted the flow of air down his throat. She’d looked at him this way before, in the elevator to the throne room, before he killed Snoke and fought by her side.

_ I’ll help you. _

The only word his mind could find to describe it was _enticing_. And that screamed  _ danger  _ to other parts of him.

“It was on Endor,” Rey uttered, fracturing the thick, heavy energy.

“Hmm?”

“This,” she stepped back toward the bed, snatching the lightsaber she’d dropped, and turned back to him. “I found it at the end of a training course on Endor. That’s where we were. Before the First Order found us.”

Ben just looked at her, relishing in her openness, while wordlessly encouraging her to elaborate. She turned the hilt over in her hands, messing with the bolts he noticed were loose.

“I think Leia found it actually, and she just sort of guided me to dig it up. She asked me if I felt its call.”

“Why?”

Rey looked back up at him. “To make my own lightsaber.”

Ben glanced at the hilt in her hands. The bolts were loosened and the plating was cracked open, allowing the red shimmer of the crystal peek through.

“You’re going to use a crystal that's been bled?”

“No, I’m...I’m gonna heal it.”

His face shifted in surprise and he was overcome by the urge to help her, despite the fact that he’d never healed a kyber crystal. He had more experience than her, having built two lightsabers in his life. It was experience he could offer her, and he wanted terribly to do just that.

“I don’t know exactly how to do it yet, I just know it’s possible.”

“I could help you,” he offered, reaching for the hilt before pausing. His eyes flashed to hers, asking silently for permission. Her even expression softened into something that made his stomach flutter, her lips parting in mild surprise and gratitude. She closed the distance and placed the hilt in his palm, fingers brushing across the silicone skin. The touch was heightened by the artificial nerves of his prosthetic hand, and it sent a shiver down his spine. He eyed the hilt a moment before stealing another glance at Rey. She was looking right back, doe-eyed expression prolonging the chill. He tore his gaze away, heat rising up his neck and face.

“I’ve never healed a crystal,” he admitted. “But I know how to build a lightsaber.”

She snorted. “I can build a lightsaber. I have the material.”

“I know you can,” he clarified. “But the incorporation of the kyber is something else. I know how to do it, I can help.”

Rey studied his face for a few moments, losing herself in contemplation of his offer. Her lower lip worked its way under her teeth and she worried at it absentmindedly.

Ben had to put more space in between them. Now.

Before he could move, she reached for him. She bracketed the hilt and his hand between her own, and tugged gently to retrieve his attention.

“Okay,” she murmured. “I’ll get started on a hilt. We can work on the kyber crystal when I get there.”

His already racing heart impossibly sped up with the reminder of her impending arrival. Rey’s hands slid gingerly off of his own, slower than they needed to, pulling Vader’s lightsaber with her. He was far too aware of the feeling and temperature in his neck and abdomen. Mercifully, she began to retreat, attention focused on the old blade. Ben released a slow exhale through his nose.

The tension he felt in his body was suddenly engulfing the air around them. Rey paused, eyes drifting up from the hilt in her hands to focus on nothing in particular. He felt a shifting in the ties of their connection, a soft thrumming of nervous ambivalence. She was rolling an unspoken question around in her head, something probing and vulnerable. Her trance broke and she tossed the lightsaber back onto the bed before turning to face him.

“Why are you being so willing?”

Ben frowned, taken aback. “What do you mean?”

“Everything you’ve done the past few days. Ever since we reconnected, you’ve been so willing to...help me. Why?”

His insides twisted in disappointment. Could she really not see it?

“You know why.”

“No, I know. But I don’t understand. What changed since the throne room?”

The let down feeling dissipated and he realized what she was asking for. She wanted honesty.

“I was wrong,” he began. “Everything I thought I wanted was wrong. I thought I wanted power. It’s what I was conditioned to want, at any cost. But it was really just...freedom. From Snoke. From anyone’s influence over me.”

Her hazel eyes swam with sympathy.

“You still had influence over me though. You always will.”

She stilled.

“I don’t care about the Jedi, or the First Order, or the light, or the dark. Everything repeats itself and the results stay the same. Power wouldn’t make it better. I’m still not sure what would. But it turns out I didn’t want power or freedom. I didn’t want this,” he raised his prosthetic hand with a humorless laugh. “I only wanted you,” he looked directly into her eyes. “Just you.”

“Ben,” she whispered. Her eyes were glossy with tears. With a shuddering breath, she stepped forward and threw her arms around his waist, pressing her slender frame against his. She squeezed gently, comfortingly, and he could feel her cheek push against the surface of his chest. He gasped silently, startled by her bold affection, and slowly wound his arms around her shoulders. The energy of the Force felt  _ solid  _ and  _ clear  _ at their contact, and he melted into the hug, releasing the tension in his muscles. He sucked up every sensation he could, memorizing the shape and feeling and temperature of her body against his, leaning his chin against the silk of her hair.

“Please,” she mumbled against his chest. “Tell me what you have to tell me.”

The blessed swirling comfort he’d relented to dissolved, replaced immediately by the trepidation he’d compartmentalized.

“Rey…”

_ “Please,  _ Ben,” her voice was harsh as she pulled away, but her face still held that vulnerable softness. “Why all this mystery? Do you not trust me?”

“You know I do.”

“Do I?” Now her brows furrowed, matching her tone. “If you trust me, why won’t you tell me?”

“I will, when you get here-”

“What  _ difference  _ does it make? Why do I have to wait?”

“Because it’s hard news,” he raised his voice.

She stilled, mouth pressed in a line, waiting for him to continue.

“It’ll be difficult for you to hear, and I just...I want to be there. If you need me. I don’t want you to be alone.”

“I know that,” she murmured. It spurred something from within his chest, the feeling he’d run away from moments before they connected.

Rey’s demeanor had eased, cheeks reddened in subtle embarrassment over her outburst.

“I can handle it. You’ve seen my life,” she offered him a weak smile, and it...hurt. It was such a painfully sweet gesture, it made the position she’d put him in even harder. He sighed. “I’ll still come to you Ben. I still need your help.”

He didn’t even realize that was a fear of his until she acknowledged it. The reassurance that she needed his help, that she  _ wanted  _ his help, it changed something for him. He couldn’t say no to her, not like this. Not  _ about  _ this.

“Rey,” he pursed his lips, feeling the words around in his mouth. “I was wrong. About a lot of things. What I wanted was one of them. But also about...I’m...I was wrong about your parents.”

Her eyes widened, hopeful.

“Maybe you should sit down.”

She deflated a bit, but took his suggestion. He sucked in a steadying breath.

“Your parents  _ were  _ nobodies. But they weren’t drunks. They didn’t sell you for drinking money. They hid you, with the intention of coming back, but...they were killed before they could. They were just trying to protect you.”

Ben could see the veins protruding from Rey’s neck. He feared it might snap from the tension. Her Force signature grew wild and chaotic. The memories were returning.

“What were they hiding me from?” She choked.

“Palpatine,” he uttered. Her face twisted with apprehension. “Have you heard of transfer essence?”

“No…”

“It’s a dark side power, used to prolong life after death. When someone dies, their spirit possesses another living body. The stronger the possessed is with the Force, the more potent the spirit’s influence.”

“What does that have to do with my parents?”

“Nothing. It’s about you. Palpatine has been jumping from host to host for three decades, but since your birth, he’s had his sights set on you.”

Rey’s eyes were wide with grief and horror. They darted about under her brows as she tried to process the revelation. After a moment, she met Ben’s eyes again.

“Why me?”

“Because,” he kneeled in front of her, eyes now level. “You’re strong with the Force. The strongest the galaxy’s seen since my grandfather.”

“That’s not true,” the corners of her lips flashed a weak smile, just for a moment. “You’re as strong as him too.” Her expression morphed into a skeptical frown. “Why me and not you?”

“I was the object of his attention for a while,” he admitted. “But that all fell apart on Exegol, when this happened,” he raised his artificial right hand. “In the eyes of the dark side, I have consciously rejected its call.”

She dipped her head a little lower, urging him to elaborate.

“I’ve been groomed since childhood to be the next Vader, to finish what he started. Every opportunity I’ve been given to commit fully to the darkness has only made me more conflicted. I’m not...I’m not really taken by the light, but I’m not dark enough I suppose.”

“I’m not a pawn of the dark side,” she insisted, defensive anger laced in her voice.

“I know, but Palpatine doesn't,” Ben insisted. “All he sees is your raw power. You’re mostly untrained, that’s easier to influence. But he hasn’t been in your head. He has no idea how good you are.”

Her stony expression yielded.

“This is what I have to protect you from.”

Ben leaned in as he spoke, tearing down any of the remaining walls in his mind. He ushered the earnestness of his words forward, offering her his raw intentions, unaffected by the depth she may see into them. Rey opened her mouth, and he could feel from the color of her mind that she was about to retort. __ But she said nothing. Her mouth closed, and she just looked at him, taking in every feeling he passed to her. A red hue painted her cheeks, and she stubbornly scrunched her nose. _I can handle myself._

His lips pulled into a soft smile. She truly might have been more headstrong than he was.

_ I will do anything to keep you safe. _

A small smile broke across her face and fresh tears streamed down. Her hesitant hand raised in his periphery. It faltered for a moment, hovering just above his cheek. After one eternal second, her fingers ghosted across his cheekbones, followed by the soft press of her palm against his skin. He leaned into her touch, just enough for her to feel it. A gentle breath left her lips.

_ I know. _

She vanished into the atmosphere, taking the warmth of her touch with her. Ben leaned forward, resting his forehead on the mossy edge of his bed.

Rey had handled the news...differently than he expected. It had been hard for her. He could see it plain as day, and feel it in the overwhelmed disturbance of her Force signature. But it hadn’t torn her apart. At least, not visibly. The selfish part of him sighed in relief, but his worry persisted as a threatening current beneath the bridge of his solace. He chided himself for sheltering her from so much. Why was it so hard for him to be open with her? This was Rey, the woman who had faith in him when no one else did. He had nothing to hide from her, and he trusted her. He  _ did.  _ Right? Then...why was this so hard?

Ben shifted to a seat, resting his back up against the stone. He closed his eyes and tuned into the sound of the waves again, seeking that peaceful centeredness he’d achieved earlier. He needed the distraction from his thoughts. He wasn’t ready to address the root of his aversion to trust.

The sounds of the ocean found no rhythm this time though. It was just a consistent wall of white noise, offering him no solace. He sighed and opened his eyes, searching about the confines of his hut for something to click. His gaze crossed the old canvas bag he’d brought and stalled. The crossguard hilt of his lightsaber rested dormant, buckled to the bag’s side by a leather strap.

_ I’m gonna heal it. _

Rey’s words echoed in his brain and he felt a hint of motivation slip to the forefront of his thoughts. He rose to his knees and leaned forward, propping himself up with his left arm as his right reached for the bag. After looping a finger through one of the straps, he leaned back to his seated position, dragging the bag to his lap. He unfastened the flap and pulled it back, revealing the few necessities he’d packed for his escape. A small selection of tools collected loosely at the bottom of the old canvas. He dug out a screwdriver and unbuckled the side strap, freeing his saber before gingerly setting the bag out of the way.

Ben eyed his weapon for a moment, knowing fully well he had no idea how to heal a kyber crystal. He shrugged to himself and took the screwdriver to the first bolt.

He’d figure it out.

Cracking open the hilt took no time, and he found himself gazing at the small red crystal, a prominent fracture slashed across its surface, much like the scar Rey had given him over a year ago. His palm hovered over the chamber, feeling a magnetic weight spread through his palm as the crystal levitated into his grip. He closed his fingers around it. It vibrated, warped and broken in his palm. The negative energy encased within the glimmering confines of the crystal whipped and lashed against its walls. He took a steadying breath and let his eyes flutter shut.

A deep inhale.

A slow exhale.

The waves...the waves sounded like nothing. Still white noise. No rhythm, no anchor. He grumbled incoherent curses to himself and searched for a new focus. The chirps and coos of the birds he hadn’t seen yet. They were...inconsistent and frantic. Ben huffed, losing his breath.

Deep inhale.

Slow exhale.

Repeat.

What had he thought about, all those years prior when he made his first lightsaber? Something had led him to that crystal. It hadn’t been Rey. It hadn’t been power. It was...his mother. From his earliest memories. The way she held him, late at night when she finally returned home from the Senate. She had been exhausted, but she held him every time.

It had also been his father. The way he would lull Ben back to sleep after his regular nightmares.

The happiest memories of his childhood, the fleeting moments in which his parents had stopped everything to  _ be  _ his parents, these memories had been the voice with which the crystal called him, all those years ago.

So Ben pushed that intention through his fingertips, into the stone they contained. He drew upon the recent moments of his parent’s affection; his father’s sacrifice, and the encouragement his ghost had provided in Ben’s moment of need. His mother’s willingness to risk her accomplishments and herself on the off chance it would save her son from assassination. These moments of faith in him awakened a variety of affection he hadn’t recognized in years, but had yearned for all the while.

The angry vibrations of the crystal changed to a low, gentle buzz against his synthetic skin. He released one final, slow exhale before opening his eyes and fingers simultaneously. The crystal was a misty clear, only the faintest line etched on its surface as a reminder of the crack that had previously scarred it.

Fingers trembling in bewilderment, Ben placed the kyber crystal delicately back into the hilt. He then secured the chamber and shell back in place, lined the bolts in their respective slots, and brought the screwdriver to the plating, tightening each bolt thoroughly.

With one last turn, he set the screwdriver aside and rose to his feet. His thumb hovered over the activator. A shadow of doubt cast over his mind. He’d healed the crystal...he was pretty sure. It definitely looked and felt healed. But...what if the saber didn’t work?

Ben released a nervous breath and pressed the activating switch.

The clean whir of a stable lightsaber filled the atmosphere and the bright glow caused him to squint. His jaw went slack as he observed the clean, non-crackling line of the blade, and the sharp bisecting jets, now spark free.

This hadn’t been what he was expecting. He swung it in an experimental arc, tight and clean. The Force coursed through the muscles of his arms, twining around the blade so it was a mere extension of himself. The sound whir of the motion forced a smirk to his face. This felt...right. Organic. Natural.

His smirk deepened into a smile the longer he studied the stable blade.

Ben had never seen a white lightsaber before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ben + feelings = scrambled


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rey confronts her friends. Ben opens up to her about his traumas, and his honesty awakens something within her...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AHHHH thank you SO MUCH for your kudos and comments. I'm sorry I've been so awful about replying to comments, and how late this chapter is. I've had the busiest couple of weeks. Luckily, I have 2/3 of the next chapter already written, so expect the update soon...

Chewie’s roar echoed jubilantly in the foyer as he broke into a short run across the marble flooring. Rey’s eyes widened in surprise, following the trajectory of his path. It ended with an incredibly stylish brown-skinned man. He was laughing, arms thrown out for a hug. Chewie reached him and threw his arms around the man’s middle, hoisting him into the air in a colorful embrace. He squeezed and set the man down, who was still laughing.

“Lando,” Leia smiled affectionately. “How ever did you regain the position of Baron Administrator?”

The impeccably dressed man smiled in return and opened his arms wide for a hug.

“Oh, you know they missed me. Haven’t you?”

Leia scoffed and pushed against his chest before returning the embrace. Rey watched, certain she’d be introduced to this Lando in just a moment. Her eyes wandered around the ornate foyer of the palace. It was a step outside of reality for her, like an old painting. The entirety of Cloud City had this effect on her, if she were being honest with herself.

Although they had only just arrived, and headed straight for the Administrator’s Palace, Rey had been dazed by the structural integrity and extravagance since touching down. She’d never seen anything like it. But her reaction varied from that of Takonda, and the unfettered green and balmy atmosphere she’d submerged herself in. The novelty of the palace was different; it was more ornamental and baroque. It screamed class and wealth, which she didn’t enjoy as much as the untouched saturation of green forests and living bodies of water. Still, she could not deny its meticulously crafted beauty.

“And who is this pearl?”

Rey refocused her attention on the host, realizing Lando was referring to her. He gave her a warm smile that made her feel a little less small in the midst of this luxury, and Rey thought he may have the kindest face she’d ever seen.

“This is Rey,” Leia smirked proudly. “Our last Jedi.”

Rey’s lips bloomed into a pleasant smile, but it did not match the pang of  _ wrongness  _ that filled her chest. The title was too heavy for her to accept. But she wouldn’t tell Leia that. How could she?

“Lando Calrissian. It’s wonderful to meet you, Rey,” Lando beamed as he approached her with open arms. She gave into the embrace, relishing in the unfiltered, unafraid kindness he offered.

“It’s nice to meet you too. Thank you so much for your hospitality.”

“Please,” he pulled away and set his hands on her shoulders. “My place is your place. Don’t hesitate to ask for anything. Make yourself at home.”

Rey grinned fully in thanks, unable to object to his geniality. He removed his hands from her shoulders after a gentle squeeze, and turned back to Leia.

“I’ve had rooms prepared for your arrival. The first group’s already settled in.” He must have been referring to the first cruiser.

“Where can we-”

“The Great Hall,” Lando cut off Leia’s question. “I know how you work, Princess. We’ve set it up with our tech. I promise it’s faster. Some of your Resistance are already hard at work in there.”

Leia lightly punched his arm. “It’s  _ General  _ now. Thank you, Lando.”

A smirking Lando exchanged a look with her, and Rey swore she could see the layers of history and friendship between them, just in that glance.

“Well,” he clapped his hands together. “I have a meeting to be getting to, but I’ll have a droid escort you to the rooms. Make yourself at home, I mean it!”

He wandered through the expansive foyer to the palace’s entrance, waving over his shoulder. A service droid took his place, beeping polite instructions to follow before it turned and moved to a corridor off the foyer. The group took off after it, and Rey leaned into Leia.

“He’s the old friend, I assume?”

“Yes,” the general smirked. “Han’s best friend.”

_ “Hey, now…”  _ Chewie grumbled.

_ “Second  _ best friend, sorry Chewie.”

Rey chuckled at the interaction before a brief silence overtook their walk. She filtered her questions through her mind, trying to pinpoint a place to start.

“Leia,” she began. “How long have you planned for us to come here? I mean, why here?”

“I’ve had inconsistent contact with Lando over the past few months. As soon as we got to Endor, he sent a message. Cloud City has been moved by the goals of the Resistance, despite their neutrality so far. He offered us sanctuary, new ships, new technology. We’ve been working out the logistics since then, and...here we are.”

Rey nodded, more to herself than anything.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

Leia let out a shameful sigh and tentatively reached for Rey’s hand, eyeing her to silently request permission. Rey closed the distance, sliding her palm into the general’s.

“I regret not telling you. I’ve seen how stressed you are, and how overwhelmed you seem, and I wanted to protect you from another deal of stress. It’s a lousy excuse, I know. But I am sorry.”

“I appreciate your intent,” Rey responded. “But I can take it. I need to know what’s going on so I can keep you safe.”

Leia rolled her eyes amusedly. “I appreciate  _ your  _ intent. I’ll be more forthcoming with you, I can promise you that.”

“Thank you,” Rey smiled, giving her hand a trusting squeeze. A natural silence filled the air between them, and her smile melted. An upsetting dash of the omission’s sting still lingered, and she scrambled internally to place it. What finally clicked set her mood in a solid shade of disappointment. “Did Poe say anything about me knowing? Or Finn?”

Leia sighed, contemplating.

“I think you should ask them about it. I can’t apologize on their behalf,” she smiled sheepishly at the younger woman.

The lack of disclosure disappointed Rey, but she knew Leia was right. Poe had some explaining to do. And...so did Finn? Leia had said  _ them,  _ and if she was honest with herself, Finn and Poe had only grown more joined at the hip over the past year. She absolutely loved the time the three of them spent together, yet she felt increasingly triangulated from their rapport. It wasn’t all bad, it had opened a door for her relationship with Rose to flourish, and eventually the two young women began dragging Kaydel along when the lieutenant allowed herself to take a moment’s break. Plus, she wouldn't allow herself to be so selfish about her friendships. Finn and Poe had a relationship outside of her, just as she did with Finn alone, and with Poe alone. But theirs had grown closer, in a noticeably different way. Rey couldn’t put a finger on what it might be, but she chided herself every time it crossed her mind. It was none of her business.

The droid stopped in the middle of the immaculate corridor they’d ascended two more stories to reach, all cream and marble. It spun and beeped a message, that they’d arrived at their prepared rooms. It gestured mechanically to the grand door at the end of the hall, informing Leia the suite had been reserved for her, which elicited an eyeroll. It then motioned to its immediate right. Rey’s eyes followed its gesture to a less grand but still lovely door, as it beeped that  _ the Jedi  _ would stay there.

She clenched her teeth, fighting the discomfort she knew was desperate to make itself known on her face. She thanked the droid, which spun toward Chewie and motioned for him to follow. They moved away, the Wookie grunting casual goodbyes, and Rey eyed Leia.

“I’m gonna settle in for a minute,” she said, throwing a thumb over her shoulder at the door. “I’ll head over to the Great Hall in a bit.”

Leia smiled softly and nodded once.

“Take your time, Rey.”

With a parting gesture, she turned and moved for the door. It slid open with the softest, cleanest mechanical hiss she’d ever heard. She took a single step inside, and stilled.

A massive window spanned the wall opposite the door, giving her a glorious view of Cloud City and the beautiful peachy orange tones of the early sunset. The rolling white of the clouds beyond the floating city soaked in the sun’s saturated colors, tinging them just a touch pinker. The soft, warm color stretched on forever, complimenting the warmer cream and ivory hues of the city. It was breathtaking.

A small spike of nostalgia permeated her as she realized this was nearly the same palette of the desert, albeit clean and organized and ornamental. Despite its overbearing heat and dreary desolation, the deserts of Jakku could be genuinely beautiful. Particularly during the rising and setting of the sun. Everything was warm and sleepy, cast in glorious rosy gold. She smiled to herself at the pleasant memory of the otherwise insipid life she’d left behind and moved further into her room. Finally forcing her attention away from the dazzling view, she found the chamber prepared for her was just as beautiful and ornate as everything else she’d seen of the palace so far. The same creamy marble floors, the same grand, detailed carvings into the pillars and trimming around the room.

Her eyes landed on the bed and she gasped.

It was the largest, softest looking bed she’d ever seen. It looked like it could fit three of her. She dropped her bag, hustled over to the mattress, and flung herself atop it, immediately sinking into the plush surface. A satisfied sigh escaped her lips. How could a bed be so comfortable? She’d never laid on a surface so welcoming. Her sleeping quarters on the Falcon were a close second, as the bed was so soft and broken in, but it was a tight fit. This bed that had been made up for her stay had so much  _ space. _

Rey propped herself up on her elbows, scanning the rest of the room. There was shelving, filled with decorative art and books, which took up an entire wall left of a doorframe. This door was an old fashioned thing that swung inward, and it was open. She could see a sink, a fresher...did she have her own washroom?

Her tired body protested as she pushed herself from the bed and wandered over to the open door. A clean, modern fresher, across from a sink beneath a wall-spanning mirror, and a toilet tucked behind the door. This  _ was  _ her own washroom.

She rubbed her eyes against the growing shadow in her vision, only to realize it was the vanishing of the sun outside her enormous window. A pang of disappointment, spiked with a healthy dose of nervousness diluted her woozy contentment as she took the sunset as a cue to head to the Great Hall. She’d see Poe and Finn there. And as much as she wanted answers, she knew she didn’t want to hear it from them. That would confirm her insecurities, her suspicions. Even as the logical part of her brain insisted she already knew this was true, hearing her best friends verbalize it would be the tipping point.

It would fracture a piece of her, and that, she was afraid to face.

But she’d lived through worse, right? She’d been left, hidden by her parents when she was too young to understand why, she’d warded off the wandering hands of vile strangers, she’d scavenged on a three-day-old empty stomach. She could handle fear and pain. So she straightened her shoulders, peeking in her bathroom mirror to smooth the stray hairs around her face, and turned for the door.

Rey was halfway down the corridor before she realized she had no idea where the Great Hall was.

She turned about, awkwardly chewing her lip. One of the attendant droids rolled across the far end of the corridor.

“Oh,” she called out. “Excuse me!”

The droid rolled back, then pivoted to move in her direction. It beeped, asking her what it could do.

“The Great Hall, please.”

With an affirmative beep, the droid turned from her and rolled back down the hall. Rey followed, and they boarded the cleanest lift she’d ever seen around the corner. It rose to the highest floor, doors sliding open to a massive room. It had to have spanned the entire floor, considering the expansive dome ceiling. The rounded vault was comprised of thick glass panels, welcoming the final glow of the golden sunset into the space. Great Hall, indeed.

The droid rolled on and Rey shifted her attention from the ceiling to the floor. It was packed with her comrades, all busying themselves with various tasks, from handing out dinners to recording intel. A long table ran down the center of the hall, nearly from end to end. It was lined with beautiful chairs, made of dark, glossy wood, and covered with the most advanced computing tech she’d ever seen.

“Rey!”

The familiar voice drew her attention to the far left of the room. An anchor dropped into her heart when she saw a smiling Finn running toward her, wearing an unmistakable orange flight suit.

He was there in a moment, pulling her into a tight hug that lifted her from the ground.

“I’m so relieved,” he set her down. “I mean, I knew you’d be fine, but it’s just nice seeing that’s true.”

“Yeah,” Rey forced a weak smile. She was lightheaded. Why was he acting like everything was normal? “Um, I’m uh...I’m relieved-”

“Oh good, you made it!”

Poe was suddenly there, skidding to a halt beside Finn and gripping his shoulder for balance. Rey’s scrambling hurt twisted into a resolved anger. Why were they being so cavalier about this? Shouldn’t they be apologizing to her?

“Is Leia okay? The Falcon?”

Poe flashed his default charming smile, waiting for her response.

“Are... _ are you kidding me?” _

Both Finn and Poe’s faces dropped, and Rey could  _ see  _ the exact moment they realized they had fucked something up.

“I’m sorry,” Poe blurted, throwing his hands up as if to stabilize himself. “Of course they’re both fine, you know what you’re doing. I’m sorry, Rey.”

Her vision went red. The betrayed anger that had lingered inside her since fleeing Endor finally engulfed her, and she gave into its darkness. She snapped.

_ “Are you fucking kidding me?”  _ Her voice was drawing the attention of others now. “You planned a mission,  _ with the fleet which I am a part of,  _ against the First Order,  _ who hasn’t done shit in a year,  _ and you couldn’t even  _ tell me?!  _ What the  _ fuck  _ do you take me for?”

“Rey-”

_ “Shut up.  _ Am I not to be trusted? Are you really so scared of the Force, Poe? Or is it me? Do you think I’m some traitor?”

She was seething, eyes boring into him, waiting for a response.

“You kinda just defended the First Order-”

“I acknowledged their dormancy,  _ dormancy  _ which has allowed  _ us  _ to grow undetected. You realize you’ve fucked that up completely, don’t you?”

“Yes, it could have gone better. These were Leia’s-”

“Leia told me her part in this plan. Every bit. And she apologized to me.”

The two men remained motionless, enveloped in a deep, obvious guilt.

“Why?” Her voice softened, hurt overshadowing anger. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Rey,” Poe began. “First of all, I’m so, so sorry about this. You have every reason to be angry at me. Not Finn, he didn’t plan this. I don’t expect your forgiveness anytime soon, but I truly am sorry. The thing is,” he shifted, straining to deliver the truth, “I was convinced...you might have gone rogue on this one.”

She frowned and recoiled a bit. That was not what she expected to hear.

“What?”

“Not exactly rogue on the Resistance, but on the mission. Look,” he placed his hands on his hips and huffed a breath, as though he were about to take on a physically demanding task. “I’ve noticed,  _ we’ve  _ noticed, you tend to go rogue on things surrounding Kylo Ren.”

Rey stilled. Leia couldn’t have told them about her bond with Ben. She  _ wouldn’t. _

“What?” She breathed after a beat.

“I mean, Rey, you ditched Luke and shipped yourself off to confront him with no plan. You almost got yourself killed.”

She released a slow, steady breath with meticulous control so her relief wouldn’t show.

“I don’t know what happened between you two on Starkiller, but I’ve noticed things get pretty intense when it comes to the two of you. I didn’t love this verdict either, but he’s Leia’s son. I didn’t know how you’d handle saving him.”

_ I’ve done it before. _

“And with your power and strength, we just couldn’t afford the risk.”

Rey pursed her lips, contemplating his explanation. It had done nothing to quell the burgeoning frustration in her mind. Finn hadn’t said a word. He hadn’t been involved in this decision, so Poe claimed. She turned to her first true friend.

“Finn?”

“I...I really hate that you feel this way, Rey, I do. But maybe, just this time around, it was for the best?”

Her vision blurred with tears as the channel of her throat thickened.

“You could have at least let me know,” she choked. “I can’t believe you don’t trust me.”

“Rey…”

Finn and Poe both extended comforting hands to her, their faces breaking in genuine remorse. But she wasn’t ready to forgive. She jerked away, turning and walking back to the lift as quickly as her legs would carry her.

“Rey, wait!”

“Let her go.”

She held the sobs firmly behind her clenched teeth as she boarded the lift. She held them the whole ride down to her floor. She held them as she sped down the corridor, ignoring the call of a worried Leia emerging from her chambers.

The door to her room slid open and closed, and Rey fell back against it, freeing the lump in her throat with a shaky sob.

She wept openly, sliding to a seat on the floor as she buried her face in her hands. How did this happen? She was blindsided by this distrust, and its confirmation hurt more than she had prepared herself for. And for that _ reason? _

What did Poe know about her and Ben? What business was it of his? He made a conscious decision to exclude Rey from a botched attack mission because of an offhand observation. That was...unacceptable. It didn’t provide enough ground for him to stand on.

This understanding dawned on Rey, spreading a low, unpleasant certainty throughout her, ultimately leaving her with two options. Either Poe knew about her connection to Ben, or he truly was afraid of her. Leia had alluded to the latter on the Falcon, so perhaps that’s exactly what it was. She didn’t know if that was better or worse than the former.

“Rey?”

She stilled, swallowing the now softened sobs climbing up her throat.

_ Not now. _

A moment of silence, that all-too-familiar echoing silence passed, and Rey relented. She sniffled rather loudly and pulled her hands away from her face.

Ben stood only a couple meters away, tense as a bowstring. His angular face was softened with wide, worried eyes and delicately parted lips, as though he were struggling to find words. The mask of unbridled  _ care  _ that painted his face was enough to push another whimpering sob from her throat.

“Rey, what’s wrong?” He rushed forward another meter, before stopping suddenly, unsure of himself. Eyes still trained on her, he lowered himself to a kneel to meet her level.

“I was right,” she sniffed. “They’re afraid of me. They don’t trust me.”

Ben’s face fell in disappointment.

“My  _ best friends  _ butchered a mission, and kept it from me," she allowed another sob to wrack her body, before rubbing her eyes and slowing her breath. "Poe claimed it was because of you.”

“What do you mean?” Ben tensed, suddenly skeptical.

“I mean he thinks I get too intense when anything involves you. I’m assuming that sounded better to him than ‘your strength in the Force freaks me out, Rey.’”

“Does he know?”

“No. I genuinely doubt it.

“Does...anyone know?”

Rey looked at him, suddenly aware she’d omitted the truth herself. Her lips parted to speak, but no words came out. Ben saw her reaction, plain as day. He tensed, his face assuming that steely Kylo Ren mask she hadn’t seen since he lost his hand.

“Who knows, Rey?”

“Your mum,” she breathed.

His jaw clenched, and Rey held her breath. How could she criticize Poe for keeping secrets from her when she was doing the same thing to Ben? Except...she hadn’t intended to keep this from him. She didn’t know if this would ever happen again when she told Leia.

“What does she think?”

“She...thinks it’s strange...and it probably means something. Which...I mean we know it does.”

“What does she know?” His face relaxed a touch, accompanied by a mildly defeated voice.

“Really, just that we connect randomly. I haven’t told her that it’s a...a dyad. She doesn’t ask. She only asks if you’re okay, or if I think you’re okay.”

Ben said nothing as he pursed his lips and fiddled with a loose string on the sleeve of his sweater. Rey’s mood morphed into annoyance at his stubbornness, and she huffed a tired sigh.

“We’re past this, Ben, you know I’m not lying.”

His eyes drifted back up to meet hers.

“Look, I’m sorry I kept this from you, but it hadn’t even occurred to me.”

“Don’t be sorry, you’re right. We’re past this,” a tinge of vulnerability softened his features. “I’m not really used to being ‘past this.’ I’m sorry.”

“Oh,” she murmured. “Well...that’s...I get that. It’s hard when you’ve built up those walls.”

He offered her a small grateful nod, and a comfortable silence fell between them. Rey realized she had stopped crying, despite the aftereffects she was still dealing with. A loud sniffle violently disrupted the tranquility and her cheeks flushed in embarrassment. Ben didn’t seem to find it awkward though. His eyebrows pinched in concentration, contrasting with the worried eyes they framed.

“I don’t like seeing you cry.”

She laughed at this, humorlessly.

“I cry all the time, though.”

“I know,” he responded, face softening. “It’s been my fault before, too. I’m sorry. I just...I don’t want you to hurt.”

“Well, I appreciate that,” she offered a subdued smile. “I don’t want you to hurt either. It stresses me out.” Her eyes flickered down, and she fidgeted with her fingers, rolling her thoughts around on her tongue as she tried to decide whether to voice them. “I mean...I know you’ve hurt a lot of your life already. I don’t want you to endure that anymore.”

She chanced a look at him, only to find he was gazing intently back at her with a rawness she had seldom seen, even from him. The energy of their bond suddenly sizzled with words unspoken, and Rey leaned into him, anticipating a new truth. He had slowly been adjusting to the confidence between them, and she yearned for his unabridged honesty.

“I haven’t heard anything for a year now, if that’s what you mean,” he began, voice small.

“Snoke was in your head.”

“Yes. And I suppose, Palpatine. I guess Snoke was his acolyte or associate, or...something.”

“How long?”

He sat back and blew a breath through his lips, eyes scanning the ceiling as he worked through his memories.

“I think...as long as I can remember, honestly,” his eyes drew back to hers. “This year, it’s the first time my mind has been its own since I could think for myself. It was honestly a bit unsettling, the silence.”

_ “Fuck…”  _ Rey breathed. “Why...how did this...why you?”

Ben huffed a short laugh to himself.

“My bloodline. Anakin Skywalker betrayed Palpatine to save his son. To save Luke. I suppose Palpatine’s latent spirit thought I could finish what my grandfather started as Vader.” His eyes met Rey’s again, and they were dark and blurred with tears. “He fucked up my childhood.”

“Ben,” she leaned forward, touching a comforting hand to his wrist. The contact was alive and warm, humming in lazy peace. “You don’t have to talk about this if you don’t want to. I’m here regardless.”

“I know.”

He took a moment. The gaze he pressed into her served almost as a punctuation for his acknowledgement of her offer. He was going to open up. She could see it.

“My parents fought throughout my childhood,” he started as he slid his wrist from her grip, weaving his fingers into hers. “They’d fought forever I guess. Since they met. It’s just how they were, different people. But it got worse when I started exhibiting strength. Leia thought Luke could help, but Han never really put much trust or value in the Force. So he didn’t really know how to deal with a son who exhibited its power. Especially when I’d spent my whole childhood telling him I wanted to be  _ just  _ like him, that I wanted to be a pilot. So their fights got worse. And these voices started to fill my head, tell me it was my fault. They were right about that if I’m being honest.”

“Ben…”

“No, Rey, they were right. I scared my parents and they fought about it. They sent me to Luke’s academy over it, when I was ten. Apparently it was ‘what was best for me.’ The voices got worse from there, though. I started losing sleep; I’d have nightmares where I killed everyone I loved, where I destroyed every functioning thing in the galaxy so it could start anew. And Luke...this whole time, he trusted me, he trained me, he took me on  _ missions  _ with him. That’s how I met Snoke for the first time.”

Rey watched as he paused, face tensing. He swallowed heavily, jaw straining against whatever volatile emotion he was trying to contain. She could feel the tendrils of this emotion, whipping frantically against a fogged windowpane between their minds.

“I feel so stupid now for not seeing it. He groomed me in my most impressionable state. He made me feel like he was my friend when things went wrong at the academy. He told me Luke was wasting my potential. And I  _ believed  _ him.”

Ben cut himself off, jaw firmly clenched. Rey studied him, heart racing in anticipation of a teary breakdown. She was prepared to envelope him in her arms, to lull him into relaxation, to transfer contentment and peace and  _ love  _ across their bond...but the feeling was wrong. He wasn’t on the precipice of a breakdown, he had awakened a latent fury within him. A fury he had bottled for over a decade, one which he had only let loose when he killed Snoke...when he saved her life at the cost of everything.

Her comforting intentions found new motivation.

She tugged on their intertwined fingers, guiding him toward her as she moved to meet him. She rose onto her knees, winding her arms around him and guiding his head to her chest, wrapping him up tightly in her embrace.

“I’m so sorry,” she breathed. “I had no idea...your  _ whole life…” _

“Don’t apologize,” he leaned into her. “I can’t change the past now. I can only let it go.”

His arms snaked around her waist, and something low in her abdomen grew tight and pulled. The sensation of the odd pulling sent a wave through her lower body, which transformed to heat as it climbed up her chest and neck. She bit down on the inside of her cheek and leaned her face against his thick mane, silently relishing in its softness. It smelled familiar; wild and salty, the ocean water of Ahch-To.

“Are you safe?” His voice was hardly a whisper.

“Yes,” she chuckled softly into his hair.

“I just want to be sure. Especially after finding you so…” Ben didn’t finish his sentiment. He didn’t need to. She knew he was alluding to her teary state at the commencement of their connection.

Emboldened by his vulnerability, she simply nuzzled her cheek into his scalp as a response.

_ I’m okay. _

“Where are you?”

A pause hung heavy in the air. She no longer had any reason to hide her location from him. Right? He’d defected. She trusted that, she  _ knew  _ that. His knowledge of her whereabouts wouldn’t result in a First Order attack. She wasn’t worried about that outcome. What worried her was the possibility that he would hop in a ship and fly to her the moment she disclosed her location. She had already promised him she’d meet him on Ahch-To soon. But Ben was intense. She didn’t doubt he’d flock to her if she gave him the chance. And that would put him in danger.

But...he had trusted her with one of his greatest vulnerabilities tonight. And if they were actively investing trust in one another...it shouldn’t be one-sided, should it?

“Bespin,” she breathed.

Ben shifted from under her chin, angling so he could meet her eyes. His face was  _ so close. _

“Are you with Lando?”

“Yes, Ben, and don’t you  _ dare  _ think about meeting me here. I will be coming to you as soon as Leia is situated. Three standard days, tops.”

His eyes moved from hers, mapping her face, before consistently flicking between her eyes and... _ below  _ her eyes.

“Okay,” he whispered, gaze now firmly trained on her lips.

Rey felt the tightening in her lower abdomen again, fluttering up her body and blossoming in a warmth where her arms made contact with him.

Slowly, his eyes dragged up her face, back to her eyes. They were deep, a dark shade of the rich brown she’d seen before. But as their eyes met, the thickened trust between them ricocheted a thought from his mind to hers.

_ Hunger. _

Rey inhaled a shaky breath, and Ben vanished, leaving his increasing heat to boil low in her stomach.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stormpilot???? Hmmmm????  
> My intention is not to make them look like bad guys. I love those characters. But their over-protectiveness has to cause some problems!  
> Also, more steam for Reylo...while this is a slow burn, I promise we're getting there...


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ben and Rey both find closure in separate emotional burdens before attending to the tension of their own connection...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am SO SORRY this is so late! I've been so busy with school and I've started applying to jobs, so it's been a little stressful and busy!  
> Anyway, things story-wise are starting to speed up. I felt like an emotional chapter was needed before we get too action-packed...and emotional.

_ Idiot. _

It was one of the only coherent thoughts Ben had repeated in his mind throughout the day. A fitting name at the moment, one that two sides of his brain fought for ownership of.

The hungry, possessive half of him chided him for not kissing her. She was  _ right there,  _ face so close to his.  _ She  _ had pulled him into the comforting embrace,  _ she  _ had guided his head to rest against her small chest. Her heartbeat had pounded against his eardrums, warm and enticing. He could have kissed her. He  _ should  _ have kissed her.

_ Idiot. _

The other half of him, gentle and rational, chided him for even considering such a bold gesture without her permission. How dare he imply that just because Rey hugged him, she must have wanted more? That was the sort of despicable claim some men made to justify the horrific things they did. A comforting embrace was not a signal for  _ more.  _ Of course she had hugged him. She was caring, deeply empathetic, and he had just provided her a summary of the weakest moments in his life. Of course she had pulled him into her, to blanket him in support. He could have kissed her. How dare he consider it.

_ Idiot. _

Ben sighed, knowing all too well that both halves of his warring intuition were right. He did want to kiss her. He had for a while now. There was no denying that desire. But he wouldn’t make the first move. Rey was the skeptical one, still tethered to the Resistance, while providing him a little more trust each time they spoke. More than that, she was a fiercely independent woman. He wouldn’t dream of crossing a line she hadn’t clearly allowed him to cross. She could easily kick his ass for it and he would be absolutely deserving. So he waited, admonishing himself for his blatant greediness of her physical attention.

_ Idiot, indeed. _

A low roll of distant thunder brought Ben’s attention to the sky. Far out, but steadily approaching, over the angry darkened wave of the ocean, he could see the overcast darken. The approaching clouds were thicker and angrier than the soft hazy grey of the wispy clouds hiding the sun above him. His eyes drifted back to the galaxy’s longest fishing skewer he held in his mechanical right grip.

“Better grab your catch now, kid.”

_ Oh, fuck off. _

He could feel Luke’s ghost eyes on his back, just itching to micromanage his limited fishing skills.

“Don’t even think about it,” Ben cut him off before he snatched the chance.

He heard Luke chuckle.

“Alright, alright…”

Ben forced himself to unfurrow his brow, turning his focus instead on his breath as he closed his eyes. The sound of the waves whooshing meters below him carried, matching his breath and tuning themselves to his other senses. The smell of the salt. The chill of the air radiating from the surface. A heartbeat, swimming in unhurried circles.

He opened his eyes, zeroing in on the spot the fish swam. Although he could not see the creature through the heavy, foaming bluish green, he could feel it.

With an intentful thrust of his arm, the skewer made contact.

He released one more steadying exhale before beginning the arduous pull of the skewer up the cliffside. His arms tired with each tug, but eventually, a hefty channelfish slumped over the edge, still and dripping. Now panting, he finally turned to face his uncle’s ghost.

“You got it,” Luke stated, simply.

“Did you doubt I would?”

It wasn’t the question Ben wanted to ask. He didn’t care about its answer anyway. The question he wanted to ask, he already had. And Luke had already answered. But it hadn’t been enough, it hadn’t satisfied any fissures in his subconscious, and he knew nothing Luke said ever would.

The late Jedi’s gaze shifted, just so, as if he’d heard the tirade of thoughts coursing through his nephew’s mind. Ben gazed back, fighting the burgeoning impatience within as he waited for his uncle to say something.

“I know it wasn’t you.”

Ben’s mask cracked, brows furrowing slightly in skeptical confusion.

“What?”

“I know it wasn’t you,” Luke repeated calmly, taking a leisurely step forward. “You didn’t burn the temple. You didn’t kill your classmates. Everything went to hell at what was the wrong place and time for you.”

Ben’s eyes widened. He hadn’t thought about it in forever, how the blame was assumed his, and how he accepted it, how it had been the final push into Snoke’s influence.

“It’s another thing that’s my fault, really. I should have just talked to you.”

“How long have you known this?”

Luke smirked. “Death may rob you of your body, but it grants you privileges of the spirit.”

Ben’s shoulders relaxed a bit. He didn’t know at what point they had tensed.

“Another orchestration of the darkness. Wiping me and my students out and framing you for the downfall of the Jedi. Two birds with one stone.”

“My friends didn’t even ask me,” he mumbled. “They just saw the temple burning and called me a traitor. Friends aren’t really...supposed to do that.”

“No, they’re not. A fault of the light, I’m afraid.”

His head swiveled on his neck to stare at his uncle, digesting the claim he’d just uttered. Luke never acknowledged the many flaws that came with the light, particularly when filtered through the Jedi code. He eyeballed his uncle, imploring him to elaborate.

“Yeah, yeah,” Luke’s smirk returned in an attempt to diffuse the tension. “Neither side is perfect. Both are kind of a mess, to be honest. I wish I had recognized that a long time ago.” He chanced another step closer to his nephew, the laissez-faire demeanor vanishing with the approach. “I owe you so much repentance, Ben. You were a little dick sometimes. But I now I know why. You don’t owe me forgiveness, but I am truly sorry for the ways I wasn’t there. And I always will be.”

Ben blinked, unable to find words. The instinct that told him in his adolescence to chew Luke’s affections up and spit them back was silent. The chasm left in its wake was only dusted with a thin film of something warm and wanting. It was a color of hope he hadn’t felt since he was a child, and was only recently reminded of as he healed his lightsaber’s kyber crystal. The hope that his family would love him like he’d always yearned to be loved, to be aware of the feeling. It was just a hair, but he felt it.

Luke cared.

And maybe Ben wasn’t ready to forgive, but his uncle was genuinely penitent. That stubborn streak inherited from both his mother and father still heavily outweighed the newfound buoyancy in a small chamber of his soul. He pursed his lips to keep them from trembling, despite the nervous twitch he could feel beneath his left eye giving him away.

“Thanks,” he murmured. It would be enough for now.

-

Leia’s eyes were roving over her, narrowed in concentration. Rey glanced awkwardly from side to side, unsure of what to do with herself.

“No,” Leia finally said. “It just doesn’t seem like you.”

Rey released the small breath she’d been holding in and tugged the neckline of the third dress over her shoulder. A banquet was to be held in the palace tonight, an official, festive initiative to unite the Resistance with Cloud City. It would also serve as a moment of much needed relaxation for the rebel army, and Rey couldn’t quell her curiosities, despite the practical voice in her head insisting it would be a waste of time. When she had mentioned offhand that she’d never attended one, Leia had shown up in her room shortly after with an armful of the most beautiful fabrics Rey had ever seen.

The general had immediately gone about dressing her, sizing up each outfit with incredible scrutiny. The garments were beautiful things of silk, lace, and crepe, and they slipped over her skin like a gentle stream through the foliage of a forest. But she had never worn a dress before. The fit and flow of the fabrics made her feel so...exposed.

Leia was right. It just didn’t seem like her.

“Here, let me,” the older woman walked around to her back, fingers working the complicated clasps of the midnight blue dress she wore. This one had pretty scallops at the neckline and sleeves, but they itched uncomfortably against her skin. The cool air hit her back and she was free from the dress. Leia pulled it from her and returned to the pile as Rey crossed her arms over her bare front.

“Oh,” Leia’s voice adopted an excited tone. “I think you’ll like this one.”

She turned, holding two pieces of silky, shimmery white fabric. She handed one to Rey, who unfolded it to find they were pants. Long, flowy, very glamorous, but still pants. She slipped them on, admiring the cool caress of the fabric against her skin. The pants slid high up her waist, stopping just where her lowest rib began. The petite Leia then gestured for her to bend over, and she slipped an equally shimmery white top over her head. Rey stood back to her full height, freeing her loose hair from the confines of the neckline, and adjusting the cropped top to its snug fit around her ribcage.

Leia's hands went to her back, fastening each button up her spine. She stepped back then, eyes narrowing again, for only a moment. A pleased smile bloomed across her face and she nodded.

“That’s it,” her eyes flickered back to Rey’s. “How do you feel? Is it comfortable?”

“Yeah, I, uh, I’m glad pants are still an option.”

“Come, sit,” Leia gestured to the chair by Rey’s window. The younger woman obeyed, perching on the chair and admiring the expansive blues and warm purples, just the first hints of that breathtaking sunset.

A tug against her head drew her attention back to herself. The tug was gentle and began a steady repeat over her scalp. Leia was brushing her hair.

“I want to braid it,” she murmured.

Rey couldn’t fight the affectionate smile that painted her lips. Leia’s braids were a thing of artistic beauty. If she wanted to bestow one upon Rey, she would happily oblige.

“I’d like that.”

The general briefly squeezed her shoulder in response before setting the brush down and returning her fingers to Rey’s hair.

“Have you talked to Poe?”

Rey’s smile faltered. “Yes.”

“And?”

“Not what I wanted to hear.”

Leia sighed quietly. “I know, dear. He jumps on nearly everything. The faintest hint of an idea is enough for him to latch onto before he begins to see how it might affect others.”

Rey hummed in response. She was upset with her friend, but she didn’t want to lose him.

“He loves you, you know that. Finn too. Just...don’t cut yourself off from that.”

She pondered the thought. Leia was right, she knew that. What if she was hastily rushing her walls back up, in the chance she could be hurt? What if she was reverting back to her lonely defensiveness? Poe’s omission still stung, but his sorrow had seemed so sincere. And Finn...she definitely owed Finn an apology.

“Lovely,” she felt the tug of Leia’s hands abandon her scalp. “Come look at yourself, Rey.”

The general took her hand and guided her to the washroom mirror.

Rey barely stifled a gasp at the sight of herself.

Donned in the opalescent white, she looked like the moon. The swishy pants became fitted around her hips and waist, breaking for a small window to the skin of her abdomen before the hem of the top. It was a minimalist thing, snugly fitted to her torso with a modest neckline circling her neck just atop her collarbone. In place of sleeves, the silky fabric draped over the curve of her shoulders and cascaded down her back in a delicate cape. It was so minimal, but what an impact it had. Rey had never worn anything so alluring.

And her  _ hair... _ Leia had outdone herself. The loose, curling pieces which always fell about her temples hung gracefully, softening the architecture of the braid. The hair at her crown was woven thickly from a middle part on either side, weaving toward the back of her head where a single, thick braid lay draped between her shoulder blades. 

Rey felt ethereally and iridescently beautiful.

“Leia...I don’t know what to say. Thank you.”

“Oh please, it’s all you.”

Rey chuckled softly at the general’s response.

“Shall we head down?”

The foyer looked impossibly grander than it had upon their arrival.

The lights were warm, glinting off glamorous chandeliers Rey was certain hadn’t been there before. Droids rolled smoothly about, offering shining glass flutes of a bubbly golden alcohol. She took a glass and sipped, the bubbles dancing across her tongue and washing her mouth in a rich, dark fruit flavor. It was the most potent liquid she’d ever consumed. She took another, larger sip, stifling the cough provoked by the onslaught of bubbles.

“Rey!”

She turned and balked at the sight of Rose, donned in a striking shade of red. Her thick, black hair fell past her shoulders in loose curls. As her vibrant smile broke, Rey saw they were framed by red lips which matched the gown.

She suddenly realized she’d never taken a moment to acknowledge just how stunning a woman Rose was. She’d always admired the engineer’s warm smile, but in the circumstances of which their friendship was formed, and the ship grease Rose was almost always smudged with, Rey never thought to admire her friend’s beauty. But she _was_ beautiful, and Rey let her know.

“Rose... _ wow.  _ You look incredible.”

“I was going to say the same to you!” The petite woman wrapped her friend in a warm hug. “I’m so glad you’re here. I’ve been worried about you, since…” Rose trailed off, worried suddenly she was crossing a line. She’d always been one to get straight to the point. Rey worried though, suddenly considering her outburst at Finn and Poe had likely been talked about over the past day.

“I know, I’m okay.”

“I’m sorry. Poe can be...well, Poe.”

“I know. But he’s...well, he always means well. Or he thinks he does.”

Rose laughed at this. “Truer words have never been spoken.”

A figure caught Rey’s attention. Across the foyer, she saw Finn duck away from the crowd and glance about quickly before slipping down the nearest corridor.  _ Suspicious… _

“Rose, will you excuse me a moment?”

“Oh, yeah! Let’s catch up soon though, I miss you.”

Rey’s heart softened. “I miss you too, absolutely.” She squeezed her friend’s hand before zeroing in on the spot where Finn had just stood. With a determined huff, she began a direct march to that spot, the corridor he’d slipped down becoming just slightly clearer. The flute of sparkling alcohol was held rigid in her grip, threatening to spill with her pace.

“Oh, Rey!”

She skidded to a halt as the kind face of Lando Calrissian crossed her path. The drink swished dangerously in her glass as she scrambled to steady herself.

“Neera, Yan, come meet Rey.”

Oh.

Two figures came forth to give claim to the names. The taller, a striking Togruta woman smiled at her pleasantly. The shorter was a Mon Calamari, who extended his hand.

“Yan Makros,” he said. “An absolute pleasure to meet you, Rey.”

The Togruta woman, Neera, offered her hand.

“Neera Balshi,” her smile deepened. “It’s truly an honor to meet the last Jedi.”

Rey’s heart twisted slightly, as it usually did when she bore the title.

“It’s nice to meet you too,” she replied, somewhat dumbly. There was a certain type of decorum to be had at banquets, she had gathered as much. But an insistent part of her brain screamed at her still to remove herself from the conversation and chase after Finn. Feeling awkward, she took a generous sip from her glass.

“Neera and Yan are two of my closest associates,” Lando resumed, “influential in other systems. They’ve been as moved by the Resistance’s mission as Cloud City and are interested in aiding.”

“Oh,” Rey replied, a bit struck amidst her distraction. “That’s...that’s wonderful, thank you.”

“They were particularly moved by you.”

Rey’s brow furrowed. She hoped with every fiber of her being it conveyed as confusion.

“Your story is so inspiring,” Neera took over. “An orphaned girl, who made her own way in the world, no familial ties to the Force, and yet...you glow with it. You’re a beacon of hope, Rey.”

A lump restricted Rey’s throat and she strained to fight it back down. “Thank you.”

Her lip quivered, just a hair, and in a panic Rey threw the flute back, downing the rest of its contents. She would not allow herself to cry in front of these strangers, not with the pedestal they’d placed her on...the one that made her feel so wrong. The rash action elicited a hearty laugh from Lando.

“A fan of the wine, are you?”

“Hmm?”

“It’s good stuff,” he winked. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to find Leia.”

She nodded, jaw still clenched over the sting of the bubbles coating her throat. Neera and Yan watched her with admiration, unmoving. The look they gave her...it was as though they expected her to speak. Her eyes flicked to the corridor.

“I’m sorry,” she began to Neera and Yan, “but I have a small emergency to attend to, if-”

“Oh, of course.”

“Is there anything we can do?”

“No,” Rey responded, too immediately. “No, thank you. I’m so sorry about this, it was lovely meeting you. Maybe we could chat a bit later?”

“Absolutely.”

“It’s an honor.”

Rey nodded appreciatively, an apologetic mask painting her face before she refocused on the corridor entrance and continued her hurried trek. She could feel the cape of her top whoosh behind her and her expression morphed to match her pace. Anxiety climbing, she snatched another flute of the bubbly wine off the tray of a passing droid, and took a messy sip that snuck a trickle down her jaw.

The crowd seemed to end past a line, as though there were an invisible fence bordering the foyer and guests could not physically cross. As she burst through that threshold, the energy changed and a feeling of singularity came over her. The corridor was steps away, and darkened as though to imply it was off limits to guests. That would be ignored.

Rey marched into the corridor, picking up quickly on the soft echo of familiar voices against the sleepy marble. The hallway curved in a large arch around this segment of the round foyer, and she halted as Finn and Poe came into view.

Both were dressed impeccably; Finn in a navy, minimalist suit with what appeared to be golden accents and asymmetrical buttons crossing his torso. Poe wore olive colored pants that seemed a satiny material, by the way they glinted softly in the low light, and a jacket to match. In usual Poe fashion, the jacket was open and his white shirt, crisper than usual, was unbuttoned farther down his chest than anyone else she’d ever seen in such a shirt. The two were huddled close together, whispering something urgently. Rey’s paranoid frustration simmered to a boiling point, and her muscles shifted in preparation for the storming parade she was about to make toward them.

Until they leaned in and kissed.

Rey stopped dead in her tracks, eyes blown wide. Finn and Poe pulled away from each other, smiling softly with a tenderness Rey was certain she’d never seen between two people.

_ “What?” _

She didn’t realize she’d voiced the thought until a nanosecond later, when both men startled and whipped their heads in her direction. Finn’s eyes immediately widened in a guilty sort of panic, which almost comically contrasted with the defeated way in which Poe sighed and placed his hands on his hips.

“Rey-”

“Is  _ this  _ why you’ve kept me out of so much?”

“No, it’s-”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“We didn’t really know-”

“Am I the last to know this too?” She immediately regretted the way she spat the question as she fought to pave a path for emotional stability in her reaction.

“No, Rey, listen,” Poe’s voice hardened. “You’re actually the first. We didn’t tell anyone because...well, really, it’s nobody’s business. Not even yours. And I get why you’re upset, but you were always the first person we’d want to know, I hope you believe that.”

Rey was speechless. She opened her mouth to respond, only to find a response was just beginning to formulate in a back corner of her brain.

“Rey,” Finn finally spoke, voice apologetic. “I know you’re upset, but this wasn’t meant to be a secret from you. Just...given the circumstances of this whole war, and the time Poe and I have spent together on missions, it’s...it’s been easy. It’s been just  _ ours.  _ And we just weren’t ready to make it...you know, a big deal.”

“I,” she whispered, grasping for the words. “I’m not upset about this.”

Both eyed her, imploring her to go on. As Rey’s words hung in the air, their truth sunk in deeply. Everything about their recent distance made sense. Their relationship _ had  _ changed over the year, and now she could place why. It had become romantic in nature. She loved them more than anyone else in the galaxy. Of course they would be happy together. Her face split into a sappy smile as tears blurred her vision.

“You’re my family,” she blubbered. “I want you to be happy more than anything, I just never...I never knew you’d find it with each other.”

“Oh, Peanut…”

The two strode over, wrapping her in that warm, safe embrace she’d grown accustomed to.

“So,” Poe began tentatively against her shoulder, “you’re not mad?”

“Mad?” She pulled away, sniffling. “How could I be? I love you guys.”

Relieved and loving smiles broke across both Finn and Poe’s faces, and they tugged her back into another embrace.

“I’m still miffed about the mission.”

“I know,” Poe mumbled. “You should be. You can punch me for this, but I’m scared for you, Rey. You’re high profile.”

She huffed a laugh and thumped a light punch against his back.

“You  _ are.  _ I know it’s not my place to make those decisions for you, but I worry.”

“I know. Thank you.”

With another squeeze, the trio released themselves from the hug. Rey sniffled and smiled at her family, heart now lighter from the emotional interaction.

“I won’t tell anyone,” she offered. “It’s yours to tell.”

“I know,” Finn smiled appreciatively. “Thanks, Peanut.”

“Wanna head back out there?” Poe gestured in the direction of the foyer.

Something in Rey’s heart sank when he suggested it. The moment the trio had just shared was her favorite of the night so far. She wanted nothing more than to prolong their time together.

“Can’t we all just...hang out?” Her eyes flicked between them. She lifted her near full glass. “Drink some more, catch up? It  _ is  _ a night off for us…”

“Hell yeah,” Finn replied enthusiastically.

“I’m in too,” Poe smirked.  _ “But,  _ I’m gonna fetch us some more of that.” He motioned to Rey’s glass, winked, and moved down the corridor with his signature bravado.

Finn rolled his eyes and huffed a laugh before leaning against the wall and sliding to a seat. Rey repeated the motion against the opposite wall, gazing fondly at her first friend.

“You know I love you, Rey. You’re my hero.”

“You know I love you too. But I swear if you call me that one more time, I’ll punch you.”

He laughed at her sarcastic threat. She had missed this with him. Her first friend. Her  _ best  _ friend. The jokes and the looks and the unique brand of trust she’d never ascribed to anyone else. Light coursed through her as Rey realized with absolute certainty, that Finn would always be there for her. She couldn’t fight the enormous grin that broke across her face.

It wasn’t long before Poe returned, two hefty bottles of wine in hand, and the reverie of low key missions on the Falcon returned in full swing.

Her eyes were bleary as she stumbled back to her quarters. They blended everything together just right, so all the unsightly textures or cracks in the walls and floors were a tasteful smear of oil paint. Every color was warmer, the air was thick and fuzzy, and every loud voice or cheer or note filtered evenly through her, at a comfortable, ignorable mumble.

She smiled to herself, sheepishly.

How had she gotten past everyone so unnoticed? Finn insisted on walking her back. Poe, too, albeit in a more bickering manner. She knew it was kind, but it also drove her nuts. At that moment, it was amusing. In a completely expected moment of their bickering, she had slipped back down the corridor, stifling her bubbly giggles the whole way. She felt so sneaky, despite having all but marched out of the banquet, right through the middle of the foyer, even greeting a few people along her exit. A small giggle resonated in her chest. No one had noticed. A year ago this idea would have been a heavy dose of morose loneliness straight to her veins. But now? She just needed her shoes  _ off _ . And so her anything but sneaky escape amused her. She’d even left with half a bottle of wine, she realized, as she pulled the bottle to her lips.

This surprise, despite the fact that she’d been carrying it this whole time, caused her to snort a laugh, spewing the wine she’d just taken.

She laughed to herself, all the way back to her door. It slid open and she rolled in, along the wall, as if dancing. She stopped for a moment to lean on the wall, one arm tucked almost formally behind her back to cushion it against the hard surface, legs straightened, connecting from the floor to her body at a forty five degree angle. Comfortably propped against her wall, Rey took a generous swig from the bottle. The wine rushed, thick and angry against her throat, disagreeing with her as she sputtered. She coughed a moment, then closed her eyes and breathed heavily through her nose to recenter herself. Determined she’d defeated the bubbles, she swung the bottle back and emptied its final couple of glasses worth into her mouth.

She held the empty bottle over her head as a show of victory to her empty room as she inhaled deeply, post chug.

Rey set the bottle down and took great care to push off the wall and center her weight back over her feet. She replaced a steadying hand against the wall, kicking each heel off gracelessly. Her fingers slipped over the hem of the silky top, fumbling to tug the fitted material up her torso and over her head. There had to be a clasp or zipper or something in the back...her fingers reached over her shoulder for purchase, finding nothing but the smooth brush of the cape. Oh well. It could be tugged off eventually. Her fingers returned to their fruitless pulls at the hem and she giggled to herself.

She was properly and completely drunk. She had been for a little while, but the floaty, blended painting feeling seemed to glow brighter even now.

Enough so that she didn’t notice the vacuuming of the sound around her.

-

He had been reading when she appeared. His own writings. From as far as fourteen years prior. He’d found himself keeping busy with mindless tasks when he failed to sleep. Tonight’s task was cleaning and reorganizing his already clean and organized hut, which had led him to an unexpected stash of Luke’s personal effects. The juvenile writings his uncle had somehow salvaged were jarring, and Rey’s materialization was a welcome distraction.

His attention snapped to her and immediately, his breath seized up.

Her back was to him. Zoned out, stumbling about in a small circle. He had absolutely no doubt she was drunk. But the way she  _ looked _ … 

Her hair was in a delicate looking braid, romantically styled wisps dangling around her face. And she wore white again, but it was wildly different than the white ensemble of her Jakku days...it was elegant and opalescent, flowing across her body like a stream across the earth. The pants were wide legged, sitting high on her waist and fitting her hips in a flattering way. They broke for maybe an inch, revealing a tanned sliver of her abdomen, before a matching top with a cape-

Ben stilled completely as Rey turned in his direction. Her top was now strenuously tugged up her chest, leaving her breasts  _ completely  _ bare. The dreamy blue light she was bathed in brought a glow to the light skin, highlighting every angle and curve…

He couldn’t do this.

“Rey, I’m here, I can see you,” he blurted awkwardly, eyes finally darting to the ceiling.

Her head rolled up, looping in an arc to the left until it rested centered on her neck, facing him. Her smile brightened. “Ben!” In his periphery, he saw her head drop back to her hands, followed by a little  _ oh  _ and the scurried tugging of the garment back into place.

Every plane of his body relaxed, despite the perverted conflict of guilt and desire battling for domain over his mind.

“I’m sorry,” He managed, soft and a little cracked.

“You can look,” she replied mischievously.

His eyes drifted slowly back to her, to find she was completely covered and smirking and  _ beautiful.  _ Ben swallowed as he accepted that it was dangerous to look at her no matter her state of undress.

“Don’t feel so awkward,” she blushed. “I mean, I guess we’re even now.”

He huffed a small laugh through his nose at the memory. She had been so flustered to see him shirtless, and how he had  _ reveled  _ in it.

“I’m just uncomfy,” her face contorted in an exaggerated frown.

“You look beautiful,” he murmured before he could stop himself.

Her eyes widened, lit up like the stars. “You think so?”

“Always.”

“Oh,” she breathed. Even in the blue light, he could see her cheeks flush. “Well...thanks.”

“What are you so dressed up for?”

“A banquet,” her tone still possessed that bashful quality, but a devilish smirk began to grace her lips. “I snuck out without getting caught.  _ Completely  _ drunk, too.” She snorted a laugh then clapped her hand over her mouth, eyes blowing even wider in embarrassment.

He couldn’t contain the soft smile it elicited. Rey’s hand fell from her mouth and she eyed him, a shade of nervousness coloring the tipsy haze of her eyes.

“Ben,” she began hesitantly. “Would you...mind? Undoing my top? I can’t uh...I can’t reach it really. I just want to put my sleeping clothes on.”

He didn’t respond for a moment. That was a moment too long for Rey.

“You don’t have to. Really. It would just...be helpful.”

“Yeah,” he replied. “Come here.”

He could hear her breathing, shaky and nervous as she approached him. She was just an arms length away from him when she stopped and turned so her back faced him. With a tentative step, he closed the distance, hand raising hesitantly as his eyes searched for a clasp or zipper. Her braid was in the way. Delicate. Lovely. Distinctly  _ Alderaanian.  _ His mother had styled this look. That glimmer of jealousy magnified just a touch within him as he observed the care she’d shown Rey. He shook his head. It was a stupid feeling to have.

His hand slid beneath the braid and swept it over her shoulder, fingertips grazing the silky fabric that hugged her back. He could feel her tense under his touch. It gave him pause.

“Okay?” He leaned toward her ear, breathing the request as gently as he could.

She nodded.

Consent reaffirmed, his fingers returned to her back, skimming along the neckline in search of a clasp. He felt her flesh rise in goosebumps under his touch, and the urge to pull her back against his chest and envelope her in his arms became suffocating.

Finding no visible clasp, he took the excuse to remove his fingers from her dangerous, soft skin, instead gathering the silk of her cape in his hands. He lifted the material, revealing a vertical line of small, covered buttons climbing her top from the hem to the neckline.

“Hold this a sec,” he requested, gently gathering the cape over her shoulder as he had done with her braid. Her fingers met his, taking the slippery fabric from his grasp.

The buttons were  _ tiny  _ against his large hands, and he realized with some satisfaction that this would take a little while.

“Did you enjoy yourself?” He asked. “At least a little?”

“I did,” she mumbled, hazy and warm. “Everyone was so nice and pretty. And everything’s better with my friends because...oh…”

Rey cut herself off, as if stumbling into something she wasn’t meant to share with him. A paranoid possessiveness overtook him, as he  _ knew  _ she was referring to the traitor and Dameron.

“What?”

“It’s really not my place to say…”

“Did they do anything to you?”

“No, Ben, I  _ just  _ said everything’s better.”

She was right. Still, a resonant feeling of disappointment settled within him at the idea. He was jealous of the time Finn and Poe got with her, the way they made her smile. He should be content with it, seeing how  _ happy  _ they made her. But the jealousy, at least now, was just a little too potent.

“Yeah...but now I’m worried.”

“Well, it’s  _ their  _ business.”

“Is it yours too?”

“No, but…” she trailed off for a moment, head turning to the side so she could see him in her periphery. “You wouldn’t have anyone to tell.”

“Yeah. You can tell me.”

She sighed.

“This is shitty of me. It’s not my business,” she sighed and craned her neck further, to look more directly at him. “They’re together.”

Ben’s fingers paused on the button he was loosening.

“Together?”

“Yeah,” a pretty, pleasant smile bloomed across her lips. “I saw them kiss.”

“Oh,” his eyes widened. That was  _ not  _ what he had expected. Rey’s head turned forward again.

“I saw it happen. I wasn’t meant to, but I did. And I confronted them about it, and...it turned into just the three of us talking. Hanging out again. We drank and caught up and it was  _ nice.” _

Ben nodded, despite the fact that she couldn’t see it. He was working the last few buttons, her back exposed in the wake of his work. It looked soft and blue in the glow of the Bespin moon which was certainly cast through a large window in what was very likely her quarters.

“They looked so in love, Ben.”

He stilled again, moments away from unclasping the last button.

“It wasn’t just the kiss,” she continued, head leaning subtly to one side. “The way they  _ looked  _ at each other...I’ve never seen such a look between two people.”

The button slid free from its clasp and the top hung open, revealing her skin more fully.

“Never?” He asked, thinking of the way she’d looked at him a handful of times.

“Well...I’ve seen it. Just never between two people. Never as a spectator.”

“But you’ve seen it...as a recipient.” It wasn’t a question.

She turned to face him, arms crossing her chest to hold her top on her body. Eyes wide, lips parted slightly...it was as if he’d manifested the exact expression.

“You know I have.”

Ben searched for words to respond with. No, he knew what words to respond with. He’d known a long time now. But his mouth seemed to refuse cooperation, as if completely unplugged from the screaming feelings within him, finally,  _ finally  _ ready to be released-

Rey surged forward in a blur and before he could register she had even moved at all, her lips were on his.

Well, not quite. The semblance of sobriety she had possessed as he freed her from the confines of her top had flown out the window. She more or less missed his mouth, lips instead landing in a hazy, chaste pucker against the corner of his mouth. Her arms looped heavily around his neck, weight leaning on him. They almost toppled over in the time it took him to come to, and he stumbled slightly, sexlessly placing his hands on either side of her waist as he caught her.

Rey was kissing him. Rey was  _ trying  _ to kiss him.

In a compromised state.

The  _ wrongness  _ of this moment cracked its marble pillars, and he deflated.

She sensed it.

“What?” She was pulling her head up, looking up at him with panicked eyes. “What’s wrong?”

“Rey,” he tried to pull away. Her arms tightened around him in response, holding him fast. He sighed. “You’re drunk.”

“I know that.”

“This isn’t fair.”

Her face dropped in irritation and she let her arms swing to her sides. “What are you on about?”

“It’s not fair to you,” he clarified. “I don’t want you to mistake this feeling for something else.”

“Excuse me?”

“You’re drunk, your judgement is compromised. If I indulged in this, I would be taking advantage of you and that’s not fair to you.”

She recoiled slightly, like he had pushed her. The irritation on her face twisted into a certain indignation.

“You don’t get to make my decisions for me,” she bit out.

“I’m not-“

“You don’t get to tell me what I can and can’t do. That’s all I get every day and I don’t need it from you. You’re the only person who never did that to me.” Her voice cracked on the last word. A glossy sheen crossed her eyes, the muscles in her face and neck tense as she stubbornly forced tears down. “My personal choices are not up to you, I thought you finally understood that.”

The air left his lungs with a punch. Finally?  _ Finally? _ His tension matched hers as he struggled to control the fast boil of anger in his blood.

“I do understand that,” he responded coolly. “I understand better than anyone, and I always have. I don’t want to control you, I want to protect you.” His voice began to steadily escalate. “And I used to believe that meant bringing you to my side at any cost, being there unconditionally every moment you need me.”

“Oh don’t even-“

“And yes, in my desperation and impatience I put an unfair amount of pressure on you-“

“You  _ expected  _ me to-“

_ “-pressure _ that I can’t take back.”

“You can’t-“

“But I understand what I did and I don’t want to make that mistake again. I just want you to be  _ happy.” _ He stepped forward as he snapped, nose a couple inches from hers as they glared into each other’s eyes. It was only then that he realized they had slowly, defiantly approached one another again as they argued.

Her eyes seemed to yield a bit and his hand, maybe of its own accord, reached to her face to sweep a loose hair behind her ear. Her eyes fluttered closed at the touch.

He sighed.

“Rey...I’m not making your decision for you. I’m making mine. I won’t allow myself to take advantage of you.”

“Ben,” she breathed, leaning close enough that he could feel the exhale of his name reach his own lips.

And she was gone.

The symphonic whoosh of the waves rushed back to life around him, and the atmosphere of his earthy hut assaulted his senses. He brought his hand to his face, clinging to the last pieces of the floral scent of her.

He felt like an idiot.

Again, the feeling was over kissing her. But this time, the context was wildly different. Rey had tried to kiss him.  _ She  _ had made the first move. Drunk. Which made it wrong. He couldn’t do that to her, not when she wasn’t thinking straight, not when she might feel different in the morning. Then again, if she didn’t...that would change everything. They would cross the border into something previously unspoken, something he’d desperately wanted for so long, despite all he could lose to it.

And so he felt like even more of an idiot.

An idiot for hoping.

Ben slumped against his mossy stone bed with a sigh and reached for his sack. The old canvas dragged across the stone floor, and one of the metal clasps emitted an unsettling scraping sound. As the bag bounced across a bump in the stone, the clasp screeched and emitted a spark against the surface.

_ Ben. _

He was suddenly jolted from his senses, finding himself in his own head as a grisly vision filled it.

X-wings. TIE Fighters. Fire and blood and screeching artillery, a cacophony of war and chaos in the sky. And larger, more looming...a Star Destroyer. Over Cloud City. The Falcon was seen darting about, leading TIEs away from the fleet and the city, taking hit after hit after hit…

_ Ben. _

He could see Rey in the pilot’s seat.

_ Ben. _

He could the the Falcon careen uncontrollably, nearly taking out a couple passing X-wings.

_ Ben. _

He could see his mother’s eyes looking directly into him, both apologetic and pleading.

Ben jolted from the vision, inhaling sharply and dropping his canvas sack on the stone. He leapt to his feet, eyes darting over the hut darkened by the night, before recollecting his bag and throwing it over his shoulder. With an arm outstretched, his lightsaber zipped into his palm, and he darted from the hut.

He rushed down the primitive stone steps, ignoring the steepness and the rainwater which slicked them. He bolted across the rocky landing, past Luke’s ghost toward his freighter. Rey was in imminent danger. Leia was in imminent danger. He would  _ not  _ let them go, not like this.

“Ben,” Luke called as he sprinted up the ramp. He skidded to a halt, whipping around to face his uncle. “May the Force be with you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANK YOU for your patience and kudos and comments!! They always brighten my day! Stay tuned for more!


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rey focuses in on her place in the Resistance. Her newfound focus is thrown off when Ben appears warning her of a First Order attack. The intense confrontations begin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for sticking with me! I'm sorry about my inconsistency in responses to your comments. My schedule has lightened up a bit so I'm back on the wagon :)

The sun was far too bright for her liking that morning. Rey squinted at her reflection, not for lack of vision, but as an attempt to quell the persistent throb in her head. She felt like such a fool.

She had tried _miserably_ to kiss him. Without consent or warning. And she _missed._ She had never kissed anyone, so she anticipated her first would be at least a little awkward, but her attempt last night had been nothing short of disastrous.

Should it even count as her first? She’d missed, he hadn’t reciprocated...it was much more like she had lost her balance and landed just so against him. It replayed over and over in her head, blanketing her in the crawling feeling of embarrassment. 

The lack of response from Ben didn’t sting so much. She’d caught him off guard, that was certain. He’d pushed her away, gently. It would have piled the pain of rejection onto the weight of her humiliation if it weren’t for his words.

_I won’t allow myself to take advantage of you._

He was being genuinely decent. Looking out for her in her drunken haze, helping her undress without being untoward...Rey knew this behavior wasn’t anything to be rewarded, that these were just the natural choices of good people, but after the things she’d seen on Jakku, the attempts made at her...she was grateful for the respectful behavior.

And she had no doubt he’d wanted to kiss her too. She’d felt it in a nearly missed moment flashing across his mind, _surprise, vindication, unadulterated happiness,_ before his logic took over. She’d seen it well beforehand, in that way he always seemed to look at her...that it was _just her._

She mulled over potential apologies in her head as her fingers made their third attempt at a braid. She’d tried in vain to recreate the beautiful sturdy thing Leia had molded her hair into the night before, but simply could not master the intricacy of her work. With a huff, she gathered her freshly cleaned hair behind her head and wove it into a simple braid, foregoing the complicated details Leia had laced across either side of her scalp. Her own braid was looser and softer, more pieces falling out around her ears and temples, framing her face in a charming, effortless way.

Rey smiled at her work, satisfied, and smoothed the soft, bluish grey tunic fitted to her torso. It was a pretty top for something so practical; same wrap neckline she preferred, sleeves ending halfway down her forearms. Protective cuffs wrapped around her wrists, matching her tan leather belt, which cinched the top at her natural waistline. The tunic came to a hem just past her hips over straight leg charcoal pants. Her new leather ankle boots matched her belt, which she found strangely satisfying. Rey smiled again, pleased with her appearance. She snatched a charcoal cowl as she headed for her door, off to meet Rose.

The very woman looked _busy_ when Rey finally entered the Great Hall; a holopad in one hand, rolls of blueprint and parchment tucked under that same arm, as she pointed with the other, addressing a rather large group of their comrades. Another group stood over the opposite shoulder, clearly waiting to address her with questions. The scene would seem to convey Rose as overwhelmed, but as Rey approached, she noticed her friend’s face held a practical serenity to it, one that gave the sense she knew exactly what she was doing and she could handle it.

Rey waited patiently as Rose turned to address the second group, realizing with some amusement that now she was the Resistance member waiting to bombard Rose with questions. As if hearing her thought, her friend spun back around, a pleasant smile spreading across her face.

“Rey, hi!”

“Hi, Rosie,” Rey returned the grin. “How can I help?”

“Well, I know you’ll pick up on it quickly,” Rose began to walk. “We’ve brought an old Republic beacon in, which will get a pretty convincing signal to our allies with ease. Problem is, it’s old and untouched, so it’s not functioning. Do you have time to fix it up?”

“Yeah, I just have meditation with Leia later, I can get this done.”

Rose heaved a sigh of relief.

 _“Thank_ you, Rey, you’re really saving my life here.”

“Why’s that?”

“I have a meeting to host in…” she glanced at the holopad, _“shit,_ eleven minutes.”

“Oh wow, over what?”

“I talked to a lot of people last night. Several Mid-Rim systems are seriously considering cutting ties with the First Order and supporting our campaign. I sort of elevator pitched them to get an audience with Leia, but she said it was me who convinced them last night, so it’s me who will convince them again.”

“Rosie... _wow,_ that’s remarkable. I’m...I’m so proud of you.”

The smile that painted Rose’s face, dotted with just a hint of surprise, took an emotional shade of gratitude.

“Don’t let me keep you!” Rey pulled her into a quick hug. “Go knock em dead. I’ll take care of this.”

“Thanks, Rey. Seriously!”

She smiled admirably after her Rose as she broke into a little excited jog toward the elevator, skidding to a brief stop by one of the less organized tables to deposit her armful of papers. Rey then approached the old beacon, an open box of tools sitting next to the rusty machine.

It was once a pretty thing, ornately designed in a shade of gold that was likely lustrous in its earlier days. A discouraging seam of rust encircled the little door to the control panel, and she huffed as she reached for the knob. It creaked as it opened, sending flakes of rust fluttering to the ground. Fortunately, the controls underneath didn’t look too bad, untouched for years by light and dust. Her fingers went to the activator, giving it a test flick, despite knowing it would yield no results.

Rey turned to the box to find Finn standing there, a smile on his face, offering her a drill.

“Need this?”

“Yeah,” she grinned gratefully. “Thanks, Finn.”

“Anytime, Peanut.”

She turned back to the control panel, bringing the drill to the bolt in each corner.

“This seems like such a Rose thing,” Finn remarked.

“It does,” Rey responded, handing him the bolts and loose panel square for safekeeping, “but she’s busy. Did she tell you?”

“She did. Doesn’t surprise me at all, she’s plucky.”

“Plucky?” Rey laughed at the choice of adjective.

“Yeah!” His voice reached a defensive high pitch. “She _is!_ It’s how she is, you have to admit that.”

“No you’re right, I just wouldn’t claim that her pluckiness is what swayed leaders of the Mid-Rim to consider supporting us. Pliers, please.”

“What would you say then?” Finn handed her the tool.

The pliers halted over the old wires as Rey pondered a moment.

“Devotion. No, passion maybe. I definitely think her pluckiness plays into it. She’s unabashedly herself, she fights for what she believes in no matter what the retribution might be. And she believes in the Resistance.”

Finn smiles pleasantly, eyes focused on nothing in particular, as if recalling a memory.

“Yeah, she does. She definitely changed my perspective. I was about to desert when she smacked some sense into me. Or...stunned some sense into me.”

Rey snorted slightly at the reference to the story she’d been told twice, from _vastly_ different perspectives. Rose’s telling had been particularly amusing since Finn had been there, gawking at her in embarrassment over his portrayal. 

She zoned back into the circuitry, carefully disconnecting the faulty wiring for inspection.

“Hey, were you okay last night?”

Rey sighed, both annoyed and flattered by Finn’s overprotectiveness.

“Not about us talking,” he continued. “You just...left pretty abruptly.”

“I was fine, Finn. I promise. I’ve never worn heels before, my feet were killing me. The fatigue just spread to the rest of me then.”

Finn just nodded, face unreadable. She picked up on a silver of a thought, projected in his demeanor. _Doubt._ Rey wondered if his worry over her would ever ease.

She finished her work on the circuit board in a focused silence, Finn helping out in any way he could. It was a tricky piece of technology, old and fidgety, but she finally got a working signal. After replacing the panel and bolting it in place, the Resistance was armed with an official Republic beacon.

“There we go,” Rey smiled triumphantly as she shut the panel door.

“Good job, Peanut,” Finn clapped her shoulder.

“Thanks for your help, Finn,” Rey replied, squeezing the hand on her shoulder with her own. “Where’s Poe?” She smiled knowingly, reveling in the warmth that filled her best friend’s eyes.

“Supply runs with the fleet. Should be back soon.”

“In the city?”

“Yeah, they took the nicests speeders I’ve ever seen.”

A thought dawned on Rey.

She bid Finn goodbye and boarded the elevator, taking it all the way to the ground level and exiting the palace entirely. The warmth of the Bespin sun kissed her skin as she stepped into the comfortable business of the metropolis, and she closed her eyes to bask in its golden touch. Her fingers brushed against the hilt of Vader’s saber on her waist, before fidgeting with her pocket to make sure the screwdriver she’d swiped was still there. The tools buzzed slightly under her touch, teeming with the sun’s warmth to stir something within her.

_Yes._

The Force nudged her and she felt a presence, far to her right. She turned and opened her eyes, seeing nothing and no one waiting for her. It was showing her the way. Leading her to what she needed.

She followed the feeling, clinging so tightly to her focus on it that she didn’t notice the sky...the way it was clear, _too_ clear, as if it were anticipating something. She didn’t notice the fullness of something familiar. The proximity of a presence only she knew.

Nothing could shift her focus from the pull she followed, right to the covered lot tucked beneath a plaza ramp on the palace’s campus. Beautiful, sleek speeders were parked in neat rows, ready for use. The pull tightened, urging her on as she ran her palm over the smooth leather seat. 

She mounted the speeder, finding to her satisfaction it started without a hitch. For just a moment, her fingers hesitated over the controls. Lando _had_ told her to make herself at home...and the fleet had taken off with a few of these...and the pull of the Force tugged even more insistently. Mind made up, she gripped the controls and let the feeling direct her as she pulled out of the covered lot.

It carried her across the palace campus, weaving through the bustling thoroughfares of downtown, zipping past a populated market place before finally reaching an empty landing pad looking over the rolling clouds below the city.

The area was deserted, visible from the nearby occupied landing pads, but none were near enough to cause her any genuine disturbance. That’s what the feeling was encouraging, a safe isolation. A peaceful bubble where she could focus, breathing in the atmosphere and the warmth of the late morning sun as she healed the crystal of Vader’s lightsaber. She would finally begin to create her own.

Rey had been putting this off for the last few days, having been interrupted by Ben, a First Order ambush, and the busy adjustments to lodging in Cloud City. It was all as well, she wasn’t totally confident she _could_ heal the crystal. She’d never healed anything or anyone before, and her attempts at fixing Anakin’s blue saber had proven dodgy at best. Despite these setbacks and the discouragement of the unknown, she was absolutely resolute. She _would_ fix Anakin’s lightsaber, and she _would_ heal the kyber of Vader’s.

She shifted the speeder into park and dismounted, walking to the perimeter of the landing pad. She lowered herself to a seat and dangled her legs over the edge. The clouds looked like pillows, thick and fluffy and white against the kind blue backdrop. She smiled, inhaling deeply as her fingers closed around the saber clipped to her belt.

The Force covered her like a blanket, warm and soft, comforting, like home. The saber rose in her field of vision, centered in her right palm which moved up, seemingly of its own accord. She reached her left hand into her pocket and removed the screwdriver, the Force humming _yes yes yes_ into her nerve endings as the hairs on the back of her neck rose. It was time. The Force was guiding her hand in the healing of this crystal.

Except...as she focused on the hilt in her palm, she didn’t feel centered. It was like she’d had the crosshairs on a target, and now, even as she stared at that target, the crosshairs had moved, focused on something she couldn’t see. She frowned, trying to place the abundant energy-

“Rey.”

Her spine straightened. The warm, deep, familiar voice grazed her ears from behind, and she turned.

Ben Solo stood on the opposite end of the platform, chest heaving as if he’d just hiked a long distance. He’d changed again, and Rey’s lips parted in surprise to see him in a color that wasn’t black. His pants still were, of course, and he wore the same black leather boots, but his shirt was a heathered grey; a button-up thing that was opened enough to reveal a healthy portion of his chest. A blush ran up her neck as she drank in the window of skin on his torso, before she forced her gaze higher, to the wooly, charcoal grey cloak wrapped about his shoulders and hooded over his head. The hood cast a significant shadow over his face, and she concluded he must be wearing such a garment for discretion.

But...why? Was he in danger? Rey acknowledged in that moment that she hadn’t heard or felt the vacuum of the atmosphere which came with the bridging of their dyad. The Force energy _had_ been especially potent at that moment...had she just been distracted?

“Ben…” she breathed, and suddenly she was jerked from her observations to the memory of their most recent interaction. Embarrassment washed over her and she stiffened. “I, uh...I’m really...I’m sorry-”

“Don’t be,” his voice was flat. “I just wanted you to be safe.”

“Okay...thanks.”

“Of course.”

Her eyes flickered downward, still embarrassed. He was clearly bothered by her apology. Why? Was he upset that she had tried to kiss him, or upset that she was sorry? The logical part of her brain chided her for hoping it was the latter.

“Rey,” his voice took on an urgency. Her eyes drifted back up to meet his, only to find a stoic worry had overtaken his expression. “You need to leave Bespin.”

“What?”

“I…” his fists clenched and unclenched as he became flustered, fumbling for the right words. “You’re in danger. You need to leave. You need to tell everyone to leave.”

_“What?”_

“The First Order is coming,” he blurted. His eyes were wide now, raw with that vulnerable panic Rey was certain only she had ever seen. “I had a vision. Cloud City needs to be warned and I need...I _need_ to get you and Mom out.”

Rey’s heart skipped a beat as her insides grew soft and flowing, like snow melting in the morning sun. She had never heard Ben refer to Leia as _Mom._

“I have a place the Resistance can hide. The First Order hasn’t even looked at it because they’ve never found anything to gain. It’s nice. And habitable. It’s untouched, but the native species are docile. The Resistance can hide there if they so choose. But-“

“Where?” Rey interrupted, voice soft. He was offering to protect the Resistance now too? The good in Ben had proven resilient, but she had finally accepted that his turn didn’t involve the Resistance. This new proposal...it was a bit of shock, and something within her very core was suddenly green and blooming, as if the Bespin sun had entered her body and cultivated an awakening within her.

“Pillio,” he replied, as if she knew of the planet. “But Rey-“

“What’s there?”

“Coral canyons. But I need you-“

“How much time do we have? I-I need to get everyone together, and...we have a beacon now! We can get help! We-“

 _“Rey,”_ he strode forward with an unabashed step, leaning toward her and boring a desperate, earnest gaze into her. “I need you to come with me.”

“I’m still flying to Ahch-To, Ben, you don’t…” Rey paused, registering his words. Her brows furrowed. “Come _with_ you?”

“Yes,” he breathed. _“Please.”_

“You’re…” at that moment, everything clicked. The lack of a vacuum, the thick, vocal tether of the Force that surprisingly wasn’t tied to Vader’s saber. “You’re here.”

His eyes mapped her face.

“You’re _really_ here. Physically. On Bespin.”

“Yes.”

“You flew here.”

“Yes.”

Rey’s eyes widened further, lips parting as if to speak, but unable to find words. Just for a moment, anyway.

“What the _fuck,_ Ben, I told you _I would come to you!”_

His stoic mask melted into a blend of surprise and hurt disappointment. He hadn’t expected her to be upset, she could see that in the moment the expression held before his brows dropped and he pursed his lips as if to hold back a verbal assault.

“You’re in _danger,_ Rey, I am _not_ risking your life.”

“No, but you’re risking _yours._ You’re not exactly protected by anyone but me or Leia, you could get shot down by anyone!”

He scoffed. “Please.”

“I don’t care how great a fighter you are, Ben, I don’t like the odds of you against a whole armed city.”

Ben’s face changed to a unique cross between a smirk and a frown, a mask of cocky frustration. He had never looked more like Han.

 _“Never_ tell me the odds.”

“Will you _stop_ being so stubborn?!” Rey’s voice reached an exasperated pitch. “This was reckless, Ben!”

“I care more about your safety.”

“You don’t need to rescue me all the time, you _know that._ I can take care of myself.”

“Yeah, you can. You can kick my ass, I have no doubts about your resilience. But on the off chance something goes wrong for you, _I need to be there.”_

She paused for a moment, lips pressing into a hard line. The soft spot in her heart for Ben finally began punching against the surface of her surprised, frustrated, stubborn shell. It didn’t take long either...that soft spot took up nearly all of the real estate in her heart. She could feel her brows slacken as a thought occurred to her.

It had been since the _Finalizer_ that she’d faced him, physically, in one space which they shared. When he put everything on the line for her.

And now, he was doing it again.

Before she could overthink the action, her hand was reaching, fingers wrapping around the skin of his left palm. She gasped at the livewire touch; the sliver of warmth and tangibility that only existed in the space she physically occupied.

Ben Solo had flown to her.

Rey’s eyes flicked back up to his face, finding his gaze now trained on the space where their skin met, angular features softened in wonderment. His brow was slackened over the warm pools of honey brown in his gaze. His lips... _those_ lips were parted slightly, as if subtly bewildered. She fixated on them, those red, pillowy lips, and a fluttery feeling rocketed from the lowest depths of her abdomen all the way up to her brain, grazing past her speeding heart in the process.

Rey didn’t know if she was possessed, or if she was merely resolute.

Her hands found either side of his cheek, and she pulled herself up, heart pounding almost painfully against her chest as she brought her lips against the center of his in a chaste, gentle kiss.

It was quick - a nervous but intentional peck against his lips before she pulled away. Her arms swung down awkwardly to her sides and she scanned his face for a reaction, heartbeat reaching a dizzying, screaming percussion within her chest.

His eyes darted over her nervous face for a moment. Then, before Rey could register he had even moved, Ben craned his neck down and pushed his lips against hers. His kiss was more forceful, more insistent and reassuring...he wanted this too. It lingered longer as he pushed into her, Rey’s neck craning back to accommodate for his height and pressure.

Ben’s lips were soft and pliant, and the _way_ in which he pushed into her...it was a comfort. Like an embrace. Bold, yet subtle. He didn’t push her any further, merely relishing the feeling of his mouth against her own, before he pulled away.

Rey opened her eyes immediately, and her heart swelled to see Ben’s eyes remained closed as he pulled back to his full height, as if he were savoring the kiss. His eyes fluttered open after a moment, and Rey could not control the smile that broke at the sight of that beautiful brown gaze, turning to a golden honey in the light of the sun.

He huffed a nervous, happy laugh as his face, too, broke into a smile.

It was the most beautiful expression Rey had ever seen.

Ben never smiled. He smirked, he offered her the eyes of a man who _saw her,_ but this...this was the first time she had ever seen him _smile._ His mouth moved into a perfect shape, displaying teeth which were slightly crooked, endearingly so, and she could not help the joyous giggle that burst from within her chest as her own smile widened.

Rey opened her mouth to speak, but before any words could form, a low, heavy, thunderous echo crackled across the sky. Her heart sank as her focus shifted toward the expansive blue, now broken by the presence of a massive Star Destroyer, just pulled from hyperspace.

The moment was over and the war reared its ugly head again.

The smooth silicone of Ben’s prosthetic hand wrapped around her wrist.

“Rey, we have to go.”

“I’m not leaving them yet,” she snapped, panic taking over her thought process.

“No, no, that’s what I mean,” he reassured, pulling her to the speeder. “We have to get everyone out of here.”

Rey shook with fear for her friends. A shockingly calm Ben scooped up her trembling form and placed her on the front of the speeder’s seat before mounting it himself, situated right behind her. His arms came to either side of her, gripping the controls as he kicked it to a start.

They sped through the city at a dangerous speed, whipping back to the palace campus. Ben drove as he flew; dangerous yet smooth, expertly skirting the limits of their physics upon the vehicle. He knew exactly where to go. Rey realized he must have spent time here in his childhood, considering Lando was so close to the Skywalker-Organa-Solo family.

The speeder slowed to a stop in the palace’s covered lot, and Ben dismounted before gently pulling Rey’s shoulder. She came to, the direness of their situation completely saturated, and replaced with pure resolution. She hopped off the speeder and Ben immediately turned to enter the palace. His hood had fallen off in their hurried retreat, and a sliver of panic seized her again.

“Wait,” she called, and he stopped, turning back to face her. Rey’s fingers pulled at the hood, tugging it back over his head until she was satisfied with the shadow it cast over his features. His brows pinched just a bit in a subtle annoyance. Her hands moved to his cheeks. “I can’t risk losing you either.”

His face softened, and for a moment he held _that_ expression.

_Just you._

_You’re not alone._

_You’ll turn. I’ll help you._

_But not to me._

_Join me. Please._

He leaned into her touch for just a split second before pulling away. For now, it was long enough. They broke into a run, out from under the covered lot and up the ramp to the palace doors. Rey chanced a look at the Star Destroyer, finding with some distress that the first TIE Fighters were being deployed.

“Ben, we have to hurry.”

_I know._

The pair burst through the ornate doors to the foyer, finding it bustling with Resistance members and Cloud City citizens alike, all rushing to fight back. Weapons and helmets and comm links were being passed about, and Rey was grateful enough for the chaos. She wouldn’t have to ward anyone off of Ben.

“We need to get to the beacon,” she muttered to him as they moved through the crowd. He nodded, and the two turned the corner into the main corridor, ready to-

_Slam._

Ben collided with Finn, Poe skidding to a halt just before crashing into his partner.

The edges of Rey’s vision turned white with the panic that gripped her.

Finn stumbled back into Poe, who caught him under the arm, while Ben took one steadying step back. His hood remained in place, but they were too close.

Finn stiffened as he stood, face hardening into a defensive anger as Ben’s identity dawned on him. Poe’s eyes widened in surprise, shoulders tense as his grip tightened around Finn’s arm.

“Get away from her,” Finn bit out.

“Finn, no…” Rey took a step toward her friends.

“Has he hurt you?” He asked, glare still trained on Ben.

“No, he’s helping.”

This caught Finn’s attention. His eyes snapped to Rey’s, widened in disbelief.

 _“Helping?_ What are you saying?”

“Finn, please, trust me on this...Ben and I are connected through the Force.”

_“Ben?”_

“What do you mean, connected?” Poe finally spoke, facing her with...somewhat of a glare. It hit Rey like a soft punch.

“We can see each other. Periodically. Across time and space. It’s always random, and-”

“You didn’t tell us this?”

Rey’s jaw dropped. “Are you kidding me, Poe?”

“What intel have you been giving him?” Poe took a step toward her. “Shit, the First Order’s here because of you. Tell me I’m wrong.”

“Watch it, Dameron,” Ben growled, a warning.

“Oh, don’t-”

“Fuck _off,_ Poe,” Rey snapped. “Are you kidding me with this? Ben’s rogue. You know the First Order was planning on killing him. He’s here to help us get somewhere safe. If anything’s responsible for that Star Destroyer out there, it’s that _stupid_ botched attack you didn’t bother to tell me about.”

“Dammit, Rey, will you let that go?!”

“Don’t you _dare_ tell me how to feel when you’re acting like this!”

“Why did you keep it from us?” Finn cried.

“Because you _don’t understand!”_

Her friends recoiled, both out of confusion and hurt.

“This...this is the will of the Force. Neither of you are Force sensitive. Only Leia knew.”

“Why him?” Finn muttered.

“Because, Finn...it’s the will of the Force. I don’t expect you to be friends-”

“Not happening.”

“No way.”

“I don’t do friends.”

 _“Shut up,”_ Rey hissed at all three. “I don’t expect you to be friends, or like each other in any way, but Ben is trying to help. And...he’s a part of me. I don’t expect you to understand. For better or for worse, he’ll be here. It’s the will of the Force and...there’s something bigger than the Resistance and the First Order at work here. I have to see that through. With him.”

A tense silence overtook the corridor as they stared one another down. Rey could feel Ben bristling next to her, taking every ounce of his self control not to lash out. Finn’s frown was disheartening, but his eyes betrayed the truest feeling she sensed from him. _Worry._ Poe was another story. Impulsive anger etched lines into his brow, and his eyes seemed to darken with each passing second.

“I don’t like this, Rey,” he finally said. “It’s too dark.”

“I don’t really care,” she murmured. “It’s what I have to do. Dark versus light is an unsustainable thing. History keeps repeating itself because of that battle. There has to be some middle ground, and _we’re_ going to find it.”

Poe’s frown deepened, seemingly more out of principle than anger.

“You have darkness too, Poe. You’re human.”

He did not respond. Rey waited until she could feel the sting of tears in her eyes.

_Let’s go._

She and Ben began moving, pushing past Finn and Poe, who made a point to avoid any contact with Ben.

“I’m going to light the beacon,” she uttered as she passed her friends. “Get the Resistance to Pillio and don’t do anything stupid.”

“Rey,” Finn called after her, voice softened. She halted. “Rey...I trust you. I just...please come back. At some point.”

Rey turned to look at him once more. His expression was an earnest one, and Rey could feel the cool of a tear running down her cheek.

“Pillio?” Poe asked, voice calmed.

“Yeah,” she replied with a curt nod.

He nodded in return. With one last, uneasy _I hope you know what you’re doing_ gaze, Poe turned and ran down the corridor.

“He’ll get over himself,” Finn offered. Before Rey could respond, he turned to Ben, and his face hardened all over again. “Look, Ren. Ben. Whatever. You’re helping, and that’s...something. But if you hurt her, I don’t _care_ if I die trying, I will come for you. You’ve still murdered people.”

“So has the Resistance.”

Finn clenched his teeth, unable to conjure a retort.

“Don’t hurt her. I _will_ kill you.”

Ben only nodded in response.

Finn shot Rey one more long, lingering gaze of hurt and worry before he turned to follow Poe down the corridor. The look would have torn Rey up more if she didn’t sense an underlying thread of trust. The same could not be said for Poe. He was a reactionary man, she knew, but his words cut deep. He didn’t hesitate to accuse her of the First Order attack. Rey could feel her walls reconstructing, and she forcefully reminded herself that Poe was her friend. He was just being rash. This would pass.

“Is this how they treat you?” Ben murmured as they continued down the corridor.

“No.”

“They’ve made you cry before. Come on, Rey.”

“So have you," she retorted, regretting it immediately. He didn't look hurt though, just...accepting. "Please, Ben, let it go, it could have been so much worse.”

He nodded silently and they continued their hurried trek. She could feel him glance at her a handful of times.

_You’re not alone._

She sniffled as a soft smile broke across her face and she reached for his hand.

_Neither are you._

They boarded the elevator at the end of the corridor, headed for the Great Hall. The ride was spent in silence, but Ben looped his arms around Rey’s shoulders and pulled her into a comforting embrace. She leaned into him, reveling in the warmth of his skin as she pressed her cheek against his chest. He tilted his face down into the top of her head, and began to push comforting feelings across the bridge of their bond. It hummed and brightened with his openness, and she latched onto each feeling.

_Comfort. Stability. Care. Trust. Safety. Love._

Rey’s eyes widened. Did he…

A mechanical hiss shook her from her racing thoughts. The elevator doors slid open to reveal a near cleared out Great Hall. She pulled herself from his embrace and jogged to the beacon. The panel flipped open and her fingers moved to the activator before she stilled completely. The sky revealed in the glass dome of the hall was chaos. TIE Fighters and X-wings flew about in dizzying, unpredictable paths, green and red bolts zipping and whining through the atmosphere. The thunderous rumble of a bolt meeting a structure accompanied a low explosion on the grounds of the palace. The floor of the hall shook with the impact, and Rey’s hesitation vanished. She latched onto the activator and aggressively flipped it.

A brilliant golden ball of light gathered at the peak of the beacon with a low hum, before shooting into the sky in a brilliant beam, the hum widening into a high, flat whine. The signal was out. And it was powerful. Rey clung to the sliver of hope it provided her.

She rushed to the lowest panel of the windowed dome, scanning the sky and the grounds to direct their next steps. Her heart froze in her chest.

Walking, almost leisurely toward the palace, was Armitage Hux. He was flanked by six menacing figures, clad completely in black. They were all masked, and each one carried a weapon that wasn’t quite a lightsaber, but bore the red kyber glow. Hybrids of some sort, lightsabers crossed with an axe, a scythe, a cleaver...the sight made her stomach drop.

“Ben...look at this.”

He was at her side in a moment, tensing immediately at the sight of the approaching threat. She could feel his fear and anger project across their bridged minds.

“Who are they?”

“The Knights of Ren,” he bit out. “And they’re after you.”

“What?”

“Rey,” he turned and grabbed her shoulders, pulling her close to him with urgency. “I _will_ kill them, I promise you that. You need to get away. Get to the Falcon, I’ll meet you there.”

He pulled away and walked toward the lift, leaving her fumbling for the words to respond with.

“Ben, _wait,”_ Rey called. He stopped and turned back to her. “What about you?”

“I have to find Mom. She’s here, I can feel it.” He reached over his shoulder and pulled back his lightsaber, igniting it instantly. Rey gasped.

The crackling quality was gone. The blade was stable and _white._

Ben had healed his kyber crystal.

“Ben…”

“Do you trust me?”

“Yes,” she didn’t hesitate.

“Get to the Falcon. As quickly and discreetly as you can. I know you can hold your own, but...please, just stay as hidden as possible. Please.”

She searched his eyes. They were desperate and hopeful, and drenched in something Rey couldn’t put her finger on. But it was beautiful. And in that moment, she wanted nothing more than to see those eyes again.

“You had better meet me there,” she whispered, forcing the words past the lump in her throat and the tears welling in her eyes.

He nodded once, scanning her face over and over, as if he were trying to memorize her. He backed away, holding eye contact, before turning sharply and marching to the elevator. A buzzing surge ran up Rey’s spine. It was off kilter, just a little wrong. Something about this felt far too...final.

The elevator doors slid open, and Ben stepped in.

“Rey,” he spun back to look at her. Her features softened in anticipation. He looked at her with those eyes, now set in determination. A beautiful, whole energy radiated from him, slicing paths through the uncertainty of the scenario, and she leaned into it. His eyes held hers, the same fascination she always found he watched her with, albeit glossy with unshed tears. His mouth opened a moment, as if he was going to say-

“I love you.”

The doors slid closed, and he was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the exact inspiration I had for Ben and Rey's first real kiss:
> 
> I'm a hoe for cliffhangers. Also I'm a hoe for Rey making the first moves but Ben saying the first words. The next chapter's gonna be emotional and kinda rough and I'm sorry, but we'll get through it


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After his confession of love for Rey, a reunion with his mother nearly drowns Ben in emotion. But another, less ideal reunion threatens to tear everything apart...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) thank you for your support so far  
> 2) I am genuinely so sorry for this chapter

Ben’s heart was thunderous in his chest as the elevator descended. He didn’t know which floor he was meant to stop on, he just followed the pull of his mother’s Force signature.

He hated leaving Rey to fend for herself. She would probably punch him if he voiced that to her, but it was true. He had a hard time reigning his overprotectiveness in.

There was a lurch from within him and he was suddenly overcome with an energy; golden, expansive, nurturing...it was encompassing and open, like the sky. It was  _ light.  _ It was the unmistakable Force signature of Leia Organa.

Ben slammed the emergency stop on the lift and it halted. He raised a hand, pushing the durasteel doors open with a strain of Force energy, then climbed out into an immaculate and empty corridor. He defensively pointed his saber about, searching for a threat, but finding none. The empty marble hall was lined with ornate doors, likely suites and sleeping quarters. A magnificent, excessively grandiose door stood framed at the end of the corridor opposite of him, and he knew without a doubt that he’d find his mother there. He broke into a jog down the hall, the soft whir of his lightsaber accompanying his movement. But...what was that? He slowed, only as he felt the presence of his other half, and he caught that floral scent...Rey’s room. He smiled to himself and kept moving.

_ Don’t stop. You have to keep going. _

_ For her. _

Ben skidded to a stop as he reached the door, feet sliding across the spotless marble. He only had a moment to acknowledge how nervous he was, and the doubt began to creep in. He hadn’t seen his mother in two decades. She might hate him...she should. She had every reason to.

Except, she put the safety of the Resistance and herself at risk at the mere mention of a mutiny against him. It was reckless...hell, it was something Han would have done, but she did it. Despite the fact that it went against everything in her nature, Leia put everything on the line on the off chance it would save her son’s life.

So no, she didn’t hate him, she couldn’t...but...what if he wasn’t enough?

Before he could retreat or delve deeper into the jumbled storm that was his thought process, the moment ended and the ornate doors slid open.

Her chambers were immaculate. A room of art, something reminiscent of the architecture on Naboo. Fitting. He pulled his attention from the details of the interior to find his mother, standing composedly at the massive viewport in her wall. She watched with an impassive face, hands clasped in front of her. She was so small.

Ben inhaled sharply, overcome with emotion. The sound caught Leia’s attention, and she turned, locking eyes with her son. Her expression seemed not to change, the same stoic mask of a senator. But Ben knew his mother. And her eyes betrayed a sea of feelings over the sight of him. Her Force signature gained an almost deafening volume in his head, and the scene of emotion in the warm brown of her eyes became a cacophony of words and feelings in his mind. He caught one thought, clear over the jumble of things unsaid.

_ You’re home. _

“Mom,” he murmured, voice cracking as tears blurred his vision. Leia moved to respond, but Ben’s vision went white and he was thrown off balance, a heavy pain beginning to radiate from his right jaw.

The world was dizzying as Ben stumbled. His saber retracted and scattered to the floor as he fought for balance. He instinctively lifted his hand to his numbing jaw, trying to ignore the buzzing in his ears.

“Chewie!” He heard his mother scold.

Ah.

He more than deserved that.

_ “He killed Han, Leia!” _

“Han knew that! He knew Ben was still there. So did I, and  _ so did you.” _

Ben pressed his other hand against the wall for balance as he painstakingly lifted his head. His mother’s small frame stood before him, glaring defiantly up at the Wookiee who had provided some of the most exciting moments of his childhood. Chewie probably hated him. He should.

Instead of retorting though, Chewie hung his head and released a defeated, grumbling sigh.

“We both know you could have killed him,” Leia’s voice softened. “You didn’t.”

The Wookiee didn’t respond, instead turning to face the boy he helped to raise. He let out a low, sad growl.

_ “Why did you do it, Ben?” _

This was too much for him. Every pain, every grievance, every hope he’d ever carried over his family was coming to a head all at once. He had spent two decades bottling everything, and now here he was, in front of a mother who missed him, and an uncle who resented him.

The lump in Ben’s throat broke and he cried, releasing everything as he doubled over.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled tearfully. “I’m so sorry.”

He couldn’t put into words the pain he carried over killing his father. That fracture it split across his soul was deep, beyond repair. It would haunt him for the rest of his days. He didn’t expect his mother’s forgiveness, or Chewie’s. He just needed them to know he was sorry.

Large, furry arms looped around his wide shoulders and he felt himself being pulled against Chewie’s looming figure.

_ “You’re home now,”  _ he grumbled quietly.  _ “You came home.” _

Ben could feel the unease in the Wookiee’s demeanor. Chewie hurt deeply from the loss of his best friend. This loss as Ben’s doing only exacerbated the pain. Forgiveness wasn’t quite there. But love was. Underlying the hurt and the trepidation, was the love Chewie had for the little boy who just wanted to adventure in the Millenium Falcon.

He looped an appreciative hand over Chewie’s large wrist, unable to speak. Words wouldn’t have accomplished anything. The Wookiee would need time.

“Ben,” Leia murmured, reaching for her son. Chewie released him and backed away. Ben leaned toward his mother, sniffling and trying to stifle the sobs threatening to destroy his barely there composure.

She rose up on her toes to reach him,  _ stars, she was so tiny,  _ and he bent down enough to meet her touch. Her ring-adorned fingers ghosted across his cheek, the same way Han’s did, and he leaned into the contact.

“Ben,” she repeated, tears glossing over her hooded eyes. “Look at you. You’re all grown up now.” Her free hand rose, bracketing his face between her palms. “Damn, you got tall.”

Ben chuckled at his mother, and a thoughtful silence overtook them for a moment.

“Mom,” he started. “I’m...I’m sorry. About all of this.”

“Stop, Ben, this is my fault. I was an awful mother.”

“Mom, come on, don’t-”

“No,” her voice hardened. “I was. I wasn’t there for you when you needed me most. I regret letting you go every day.”

“You didn’t  _ do  _ the things I’ve done though.”

“I know,” she admitted. “And I know you being here doesn’t erase those things. But you  _ are  _ here. You’re home.”

The tears finally spilled down her cheeks, and she pulled her son down with a deceptively powerful grip into an embrace. An embrace he hadn’t felt since he was smaller than her, awkward and impressionable as a young boy. Even in his hunched position, he felt perfectly comforted and nurtured. It was everything he had yearned for since he was ten years old, when he was dropped off with Luke. That yearning, that feeling of love is what had fueled his hold on the Force when he healed his kyber crystal. His mother loved him. And it was everything he’d dreamed of for the past two decades, in the recesses of his mind not even Palpatine could reach.

“I love you, Ben,” she whispered over his shoulder.

“I love you too, Mom.”

They held each other for one perfect moment, sniffles echoing around the grand chamber. Ben relished in the feeling of his mother’s nurturing arms, despite the aged frailty he could feel in her petite frame. He squeezed her gently, feeling the press of her cheek against his chest in response. And in this perfect moment, he felt his father’s embrace too.

Then the perfect, idyllic structure encasing them in the moment was violently shattered by a too-near explosion. The grounds rumbled with the blast, and the ugly, dire reality of their situation came crashing back down. Ben pulled away from his mother and protectively gripped her hands.

“We have to get you out of here,” he began tugging her along, reaching for the saber which zipped back into his grip. “Rey’s grabbing the Falcon, we’ll meet her there.”

“You’ve been talking,” Leia halted.

“Yes, we’ve - Mom, come on, we have to hurry.”

“You love her,” she didn’t budge.

_ “Mom,”  _ Ben groaned.

“You do. I can feel it,” the grin plastered across her face was pure, unadulterated giddiness. He could tell without a doubt that once they reached the safety of hyperspace, things were going to get  _ embarrassing. _

“We don’t have time for this right now, come on,” he tugged at her hand pulling them through the open doors to her chambers. Chewie followed, grabbing a practical bag of Leia’s from the edge of the bed and slinging it over his shoulder. He marched down the corridor after them, bringing his bowcaster up to a defensive position.

Despite the unease that lingered with Chewie, Ben was comforted by his protective presence. He knew the Wookiee would do anything to keep Leia safe.

The low, modern whir of the moving elevator took on an ominous tone as they journeyed downward, and Ben could not ignore the nerves chipping away at his default austerity. He rarely experienced true fear. No...that was a lie. Ben spent most of his life in fear. What he rarely experienced was an acceptance of his fear. The moment he saw his father on Starkiller, he was afraid. The moment Snoke launched Rey into the air and ripped into her mind, he was afraid. The moment before he kissed Rey back, he was afraid.

And now, he feared for his mother. Leia Organa was an indomitable woman, but she had slowed. The attack on  _ Raddus  _ had only worsened things for her, it seemed. Yet another thing he blamed himself for.

Leia seemed to feel the discomposure consuming his subconscious. She turned to her son, laying a delicate hand upon his bicep.

“Ben, what is it?”

He looked at his mother, deep brown eyes widened with worry. Those eyes projected a warm memory across the foreground of his mind, back into his early childhood, when he first began exhibiting strength in the Force. He’d had no control, no understanding of what was happening or why his mother was looking at him like that. But then she had scooped him up, pulled him against her chest, and whispered into his hair.

“You’re okay. It’s okay. You’re good, Ben. I love you.”

Now he stood above his greying mother, mapping those same worried eyes, glossed over with the warm, protective love of a parent. Resolute, Ben pulled his attention away.

“Chewie,” he faced his Wookiee uncle. “Rey will be outside with the Falcon. As soon as we get off this lift, I need you to take Mom and  _ run.  _ Please. I’ll cover for you.”

Chewie nodded and tightened his grip on the bowcaster. The elevator finally slowed to a stop, and Ben turned back to his mother.

“Everything’s gonna be okay,” he promised her.

“Ben,” she scoffed, rolling her eyes. “I trust you’re right, but I’m not  _ that  _ frail.”

He bit back a laugh at the mannerisms she used to seemingly reserve only for his father.

“I know you’re not. But I can’t risk this.”

She nodded, and the mechanical hiss of the doors opening sucked the atmosphere of any groundedness. He ignited his lightsaber, and immediately heard Leia's gasp at its condition.

"You healed the crystal," she murmured.

"Yeah. I can help Rey."

"I know you can," his mother's tone took on a smug, knowing quality at the mention of Rey, as though she were mentally rifling through matchmaker schemes. He rolled his eyes and exited the lift.

The corridor was empty and quiet, only serving to heighten the anticipatory unrest brewing within him. He glanced back at Chewie, now cradling Leia protectively in one arm. The two exchanged another nod, and Ben broke into a sprint down the corridor. It rounded in a painfully slow arc, following the round architecture of the foyer, and sending his mind further into the thicket of trepidation. With every step, the corridor became just a hair clearer; the most inopportune hall for avoiding ambush. It was as if the passage were sentient, mocking his fear the same way the voices used to…

But the grand foyer entered his view, and he slowed, holding a hand up to signal the same for Chewie. He peered around the corner as discreetly as he could, finding it seemingly empty. The Resistance really could hustle. Then in a single, expert lunge, he launched into the threshold, raising his lightsaber to his shoulder level in a full extension.

Stillness.

He angled about in every direction, eyed every doorway, reached out with the Force...no signatures in their immediate vicinity. They were in the clear for a precious, lucky moment, and he would not waste it. He turned back to the corridor to find Chewie peering around the corner, awaiting his signal.

_ Ben. _

Rey’s voice caressed his mind, easing the anxiety a bit.

_ I’m here. _

_ I can feel you. _

_ We’re ready. _

_ I’ll be there in a moment. I promise. _

Ben sighed at the spring-like flutter her voice elicited from the very core of him, before shaking his head and returning his attention to Chewie.

“She’s almost here. Let’s go.”

_ “You got it.” _

The two broke into a run for the foyer’s excessive doors, its ornate and artistic glass creating a kaleidoscope of the plaza outside and the chaos beyond. Ben threw an arm up and felt the Force jet from the depths of his muscles out through the palm of his hand in a rush of energy. The ornate doors flung wide open in response, and Ben swung his saber up defensively, preparing for an attack.

The Falcon was touching down, maybe fifty meters away.

His shoulders relaxed at the sight, just a touch. He threw a glance over his shoulder, finding Chewie by his side, arm still tightly wrapped around Leia. She eyed her son with a look of pride he’d never seen. Before he could let the emotions overtake him once again, he pulled his attention to their surroundings, scanning the horizon for any immediate threats. TIE Fighters whined gratingly overhead, both chasing and being chased by the rather impressive Resistance fleet. They had certainly grown over the past year.

“Ben!”

His attention snapped back toward the Falcon. Rey was sprinting down the ramp in their direction, legs pumping her slender form faster than he’d ever seen her move, braid whipping about behind her. She was absolutely lithe and beautiful, and at the most untimely moment, Ben became swept up in  _ her. _

He didn’t realize this, of course. He didn’t realize why she skidded to a halt, determined face turning away from him and contorting in horror. The addled dread began to take him in that moment, but he was just a hair too slow to place it. She released a harrowing, feral scream and threw out a rigid arm  _ just  _ to his left. Finally coming to, Ben turned his head in that very direction to find a blaster bolt, frozen in place, mere inches from colliding with his skull.

He heard a furious grunt from Rey and the blast was ricocheted back to its source, nailing a panicked Armitage Hux in the shoulder. He released a pathetic cry and Ben’s vision began to redden. The darkness inside him bristled, asking the light’s permission to unfurl, no holds barred. He turned to Chewie.

_ “I’ll get her on the Falcon,”  _ Chewie assured before Ben could even speak.  _ “Cover me, kid.” _

He nodded once.

“Ben,” Leia called over Chewie’s shoulder. “May the Force be with you, my boy.”

He offered his mother a small, determined parting smile before whirling back to face his would be assailant. The ginger nuisance was seething, muttering curses Ben couldn’t hear as he clutched his damaged shoulder with a gloved hand. The Knights of Ren flanked Hux, lightweapons ignited.

“Well, look at you,” Gil called across the plaza, helmet replaced on his head in full Vicrul bravado. “You healed your kyber.”

Ben’s nostrils flared. The darkness prodded more insistently, but the light held it fast.  _ Wait. _

“Ah,” Gil continued in that vexatious, false laissez-faire tone. “And you replaced your hand. I was  _ really  _ hoping you wouldn’t survive that.”

Ben was about to retort, to throw the exact same dig right back at his former comrade, when the whir of a lightsaber igniting pulled his attention to his right. The energy of the Force shifted and he felt half of his mind tilt off kilter, overcome with an extreme emotion that wasn’t his own.

Rey was directly next to him, basked in the red glow of Vader’s saber. 

She was arbitrarily and incandescently  _ livid. _

“You,” she lifted the blade level, pointing at Gil.  _ “You  _ did this to him.”

Despite his mask, Ben could  _ see  _ the devilish smile creeping across Gil’s face. And for the second time that day, he was truly afraid.

“Rey Nemina.”

He drew her name out like it was an invaluable treasure lost to time, and he had just found it in the simplest of places. She didn’t budge at the mention of her last name, far too enraged to register it. Ben’s insides churned, knowing exactly what a disservice Rey didn’t realize she was doing herself.

“Rey,” he tried, but her wrathful gaze was nailed to the Knight.

“I’m going to  _ kill you.” _

Gil laughed. “Oh, little bird. You’ve just made everything so much easier for us.”

It was the nickname that did it. Rey faltered, just a hair, at the endearment she’d long forgotten. It was all the Knights needed. They launched forward, weapons raised. For Ben, they finally crossed the line.

The light within him, offended by the veiled threats against his other half, stepped back and released the darkness from its embrace. It flooded within him and his vision went completely red. He glanced at Rey, who was just as clearly succumbing to her own darkness. Their bond snapped into a precise line of smooth, clean passion, and he nodded at her. This was the opposite of what he’d wanted. He needed her  _ safe,  _ away from these assailants who meant her the most unfathomable harm. But he knew he couldn’t do this without her. Not with the stakes being what they were in that exact scenario. So he promised the persistent nudge of the light that was his love for Rey, if there was a mere  _ scratch  _ that marked her in the impending battle, he would destroy every last one of them, no matter what it meant for his soul.

She nodded in return, the soft eyes she gave to him alone flashing for a moment before hardening. They turned to face the approaching Knights, and together, they raised their lightsabers to the same defensive position at their shoulders.

Two that were one.

The beginning and the end of each other.

A balance in the Force.

And they attacked. Rey swung her saber wildly, unleashing her feral survivor roots against the practiced grace of Cardo’s lightwhip. It slapped against her blade, momentum sending the whip in a constricting spiral around the red kyber beam, and Rey tugged in vain to free it. Ben threw an arm out to send Gil and Ushar flying, focused intently on making sure Rey walked away from this completely untouched.

But she compensated for her compromised position, following the nature of the whip, winding her own body into Cardo’s as her free fingers moved in a blur for something on her waist...a splitting crackle, a flash of blue, and the unstable blade of Anakin’s lightsaber was jutting through Cardo’s thigh. He wailed in agony and dropped as the lightsaber sputtered inconsistently. Rey deactivated the weapon and freed Vader’s saber at breakneck speed, before sprinting to Ben, throwing her left arm around his waist and pulling him against her as her right arm swung up in an arc from the ground, reaching behind him.

A sizzling whir was followed by a pained grunt and Ben realized that, once again, she’d just saved his ass. She pushed with the arm that embraced him and he followed her momentum, swinging around so they switched places. With a reassuring squeeze, Rey released him and they both spun on their heels, back to back. Gil was already coming at Ben, and Rey was faced with both Trudgen and Ap’lek.

Ben whirled his lightsaber in a full rotation at his side, a blinding flash of white buzzing with the motion. He met the downswing of Gil’s lightaxe with ease, sliding the weapon up the length of its blade until it was stuck in the juncture of the crossjet and the hilt. Advantage and momentum paying him a kindness, he shoved Gil back, already rearing his lightsaber around for an offensive blow. They went back and forth with strikes, Ben holding his own as Gil came close, but short. He should have been advancing on the Knight. But he couldn’t leave Rey’s side.

He felt her press against him and he instinctively leaned forward so she was stretched across his back. Her hand found the leverage of his thigh once again, and he reached his left across his waist to reassuringly touch it for a nanosecond.

_ I’m here. _

Then he jerked to his full height, propelling her off his back with the momentum she needed. He could feel the impact of her kick through their bond.

Gil brought his axe down again,  _ hard,  _ and Ben met it with a stagger, the force of Gil’s blow pushing him lower than he’d like. He was vulnerable now. Gil could pull away, but strike again in the time it took him to regain his footing. Best case scenario, he’d just wear Ben down for a moment, but it wasn’t a risk Ben was keen on-

A red flash tore through his vision and he suddenly felt a splatter of blood whip across his face. Gil dropped to the ground, releasing an agonized, guttural scream. He lay writhing on the ground, next to his discarded axe and  _ severed right arm  _ as Rey stood over him, panting heavily. Her eyes were wild and predatory. She swung her arm back for the fatal blow, and the light within Ben came rushing back at a dizzying speed. His free hand darted for her saber-clad arm, stopping the attack dead in its tracks.

“No,” he demanded.

Rey growled and began to resist, thrashing her arm as much as she could in his iron grip.

“He hurt you,” she snarled. “He hurt you. He...he hurt you…”

She was possessed by her anger, having dived too deeply into the dark, with little possession of control over her own balance. Ben deactivated his lightsaber and pulled her against his chest, taking a moment to eye their position.

Every Knight was down for the count. None were dead, but Rey had significantly maimed all of them. They needed to die, yes, but all that mattered now was getting her and his mother to safety.

So he held her, opening their bond and pushing light into her mind.  _ Safety. Comfort. Trust. Compassion. Love. Love. Love. _

Her arm slackened in his grip and he felt her body begin to compose against him.

“Come on, Rey.”

“He...I,” her voice was full of tears. “I’m so...I’m so...I can’t believe I…”

“It’s okay,  _ shhh,  _ let’s go,” he reached over her hand for the activator on Vader’s saber and the blade retracted with a zip. Arms still wrapped around her, he ushered them in the direction of the Falcon, eyeing Gil’s position for any potential attacks. The Knight was incapacitated, groaning incoherently and curling in on himself as blood pooled around his mutilated shoulder.

Ben guided Rey to the Falcon’s ramp, where Leia was waiting with open arms to receive her. She stumbled into the general’s grasp, Ben gently releasing her shoulders. Leia’s arms were already wrapped around her and she leaned up, cooing comforting words into Rey’s ears. It warmed an obscure spot in Ben’s heart to see them together like this, and he watched the two women he loved most in the galaxy love each other. Leia ushered Rey inside, likely to go co-pilot Chewie-

_ “REN!” _

Everything stood still for a split second of certain dread before the atmosphere began to spiral. The sound of a blaster firing tore through the air and Ben turned, painfully slowly, so slowly he found himself wondering in a panic why he wasn’t reacting faster. There was a blur of movement rounding his frame in his periphery, and he felt small arms wrap about him and push him up the ramp, back toward-

_ Thwack. _

Ben stumbled as he was forced back from the blast's momentum, but felt no pain, found no point of impact on his body. Frantic and confused, his eyes darted up, landing on the face of his mother. She stood on the ramp between him and Hux, rigid from the impact of the blaster bolt hitting her square in the back.

“Mom,” Ben muttered, eyes blowing wide.

Her rigidity passed and she swayed, balance giving way to her rapidly declining condition. Ben scrambled forward to catch her. She felt so small in his arms. The reality of what was happening to her hit him like a sucker punch to the jaw.

“No,” he mumbled, a lump rocketing up his throat. “Nonononono _ no…” _

Her trembling hand reached up to touch his cheek. She was so calm, so composed as she wilted in his arms.

“It’s okay, dear,” she whispered.

_ “No... _ Mom, why... _ why?” _

“Because I love you.”

He heard the click of a blaster seconds from firing and he jerked his attention back to Hux. The blaster was trained at his head, and Rey reappeared in a panic, ready to-

A body slammed into Hux with a war cry, knocking him from the bottom of the ramp. 

Rose Tico.

She climbed from her position on top of Hux and brought a hefty looking staff down on his abdomen with a furious wail. Ben stole this moment of safety to redirect his attention to his mother. She was fading fast, a soft, lingering smile painted on her graceful features.

“I’m so proud of you, Ben,” she breathed, remnants of her voice horse.

“Please don’t go,” he begged in vain.

“I’ll always be with you,” she promised, and Ben felt that truth in the depths of him, beyond the suffocating grief. “I love you forever, Ben.”

Leia’s eyes closed, and her body began to fade in a pale blue glow. Ben could feel her slipping, the final remnants of her growing cold as he grasped for the last feeling of his mother’s touch.

She was gone.

Ben broke, hunched over, screaming on the inside. The wailing cries he felt internally never made their way out. Instead, his veins strained, his muscles tensed, his knuckles grew white from the fists clenched so tight his stubby nails punctured the skin of his palm. But by some cruel trick of nature, he wasn’t allowed to vocalize his pain.

Rey’s arms wrapped around his middle, and he felt the press of her head against his back. Her mind flew over the bridge of their bond and engulfed him, blanketing his wounded subconscious in her happiest memories of Leia, the moments Ben needed to cling to right then and there. He released a hand from its excruciating fist and pressed it over her own, a silent acceptance of her comfort.

Rose released a pained cry and both jerked upward to see Hux had overpowered her, claiming the staff and whacking her off her feet. Ben glared at the man who had just murdered his mother. Why was he still alive?

The darkness enveloped him and he began to stand as Hux sprinted off toward the palace. Ben’s mind was a white screen, too overpowered by grief and blinding anger to coherently direct himself to follow the man. But he had to. He  _ had to kill  _ Armitage Hux.

“Ben,” Rey’s hands found either side of his face. “Ben, stop, you’re hurting yourself.”

A sharp pain suddenly radiated from his palms and he stared down, finding crescent shaped indents all leaking a concerning amount of blood. Chewie was pushing past them, bowcaster in hand.

_ “Get out of here,”  _ he urged them. Ben could hear the pained fury in his voice. Chewie had lost yet another of his dearest friends.

“What about you?” Ben uttered.

_ “Rose needs help. We’re gonna kill that fucker.” _

Ben wanted to kill Hux. He wanted him to  _ hurt,  _ to die in a slow, painful, excruciating manner, and he wanted to be the one to do it. But truthfully, this was something Chewie deserved more. Ben had no control over himself at the moment, too overcome with too many suffocating feelings, and Chewie had lost three of his most loved ones to the First Order. Han, of course, was Ben's fault...but Chewie seemed past vengeance upon Ben, despite how much he believed he deserved it. If Chewie caught up to Hux, the general's demise at the Wookiee's hand would be more than merited.

Rose was rising to her feet, looking at Ben and Rey like she was completely unsurprised to see them together.

“Yeah,” she agreed, wincing as she gripped her ribs where Hux had struck her. “We’ve mostly cleared out. Got some new ships, new recruits, and we’re regrouping on Pillio. We’ll get Hux. Don’t wait up, just...get to safety.”

She looked at Rey for a moment, the knowing look of a friend, before limping off in the direction of the palace, leaning on Chewie’s arm for support.

“Ben,” Rey placed a hand on his chest, bringing his attention back to her. “We’ve...we should go.”

He nodded.

“I can pilot, you just...take your time.”

He nodded again and leaned into her as she wrapped an arm around him and led them into the ship. She sat him down at the Dejarik table and moved for the cockpit, before pausing and turning back to face him. Her eyes shined with the tears she was fighting so hard not to shed. Trying to be strong so he could be broken.

“Ben, I’m,” her voice caught in her throat, “I’m so, so sorry. She loved you  _ so  _ much.”

He didn’t have the words to respond. Not now. So he reached out and pulled Rey against him, pressing his face into her tunic as she squeezed him and rested her cheek on the top of his head. They stayed there for a long moment, living in their grief despite their dire need to escape Bespin. Leia deserved more, but for that moment, it was all they had.

Rey pressed a kiss into his crown and reluctantly released him before meandering to the pilot’s seat. Ben curled up on his side in the rounded booth, willing himself to cry. It did not come as they lifted off. It did not come as they broke the atmosphere. But as the roar of the ship shifting into light speed pounded on his brain, the unplaceable, invisible glass containing his grief inside shattered, and he cried. He cried until his throat was raw. He cried until he was drifting off to sleep, comforted by the phantom of his mother’s embrace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am...so sorry  
> Her death is canon, yes, but oooooh this still hurt to write. We have to get through some hurt and angst, I'm sorry. BUT good things are coming, I promise!  
> Also, little nod to Gingerflower, yes? At least violently?


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now truly alone together, Rey and Ben grapple with the personal issues threatening to alter their burgeoning relationship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the unofficial chapter title is "horny and dumb"

Rey trembled as she released the controls of the Falcon, allowing hyperspace to take hold of the ship. She sank against the worn seat, mulling over  _ everything  _ that had happened in the past hour.

Ben’s confession of love for her. It had frozen her in place, seeping slowly into every fiber of her being with a near suffocating glow. She wasted a long, precious moment playing his deep voice on a loop in her head.  _ I love you. I love you. I love you.  _ It was overwhelming and relieving and  _ terrifying.  _ Her hopes had proven true. Everything he’d done...it had all been for her.

Then the dreamy anchor that tied Rey to her optimism was dissolved and the Knights of Ren appeared. The Knights of Ren who tore Ben’s hand from him. Who meant to kill him and...do something to her. Rey denied the glaringly clear memories of what she’d done in her rage, trying to will herself into believing she’d blacked out for those moments. But she remembered all too well how she ripped holes in them, how she probably blinded one, how she sliced away the arm of the man who had sliced away Ben’s...how she had almost killed him. Violently. The one who had called her names which poked holes in the long forgotten vault of her earliest memories.  _ Rey Nemina. Little bird.  _ Her name, her nickname, she was sure of it...but so much was blurred, like only the light of a tower in the storm breaking through the clouds. It directed her to what she knew would be there, but the details, the context...it was all missing.

And Leia...oh, Leia. Rey’s heart grew heavier as she bit back her sobs behind trembling lips. She couldn’t cry for Leia. Not now. Not when Ben needed her stability. She could hear him from her seat, his unabashed wails muffled against the leather of the Dejarik booth. The sound of him so broken, so small, tore something within her and the lump in her throat surged, forcing a whimper to escape. Every instinct screamed at her to go to him, to hold him and wrap his body and mind in her attention and comfort, but a singular voice held her back. He needed to feel this. He needed a moment to himself to let everything go, no holds barred. Just a moment, at the very least. She would be there the moment he felt alone.

And so Rey meditated, containing her shaking frame and centering herself around the rawness of Ben’s feelings. It was hard not to break under this excruciating concentration, but she needed this for Ben as much as herself. The Force entered her slowly, wrapping comfortingly around her bones and warming the walls of her veins, like a pure cotton blanket heated by the glow of a nearby fire. She felt it settle within her, urging her on with the utmost gentleness, as though itself dented from the loss of Leia.

“Be with me,” she whispered, voice shaking with the effort.

The Force continued its warm, pillowy embrace around every part of her. She tried again.

“Be with me.”

She thought of Leia’s training. Her patience with Rey, her signature sass, her kindness and interest in the younger woman’s interests and well-being. The Force prodded her.

“Be with me.”

She thought of Ben, of his darkest moments, his sacrifices, his moments of truth. The love that he felt, that he finally felt freely. The love Rey felt for him.

_ I knew it. _

Rey’s eyes fluttered open at the echoey quality of a familiar voice, but she saw no phantom of Leia, translucent and glowing a soft blue.

_ I’m here, Rey. In your mind. _

“Leia, I’m,” she paused, swallowing a sob that had weaseled its way up her throat and past her steely defenses. “I’m so sorry.”

_ Don’t be. I’d do it again for Ben. For you. _

Rey offered no rebuttal. What could she say to that anyway? The general wouldn’t hear any objections, she knew that.

_ But you do, don’t you? _ Leia’s voice continued, swathing her mind in an ethereal solace.

“What?”

_ Love him. _

Rey paused. Of course she did. She had for a little while now, denying it and denying it until...she could finally succumb to its truth. Now.

“I...I really think I do.”

_ Then hold onto that. You two are meant for something bigger than all of this. I know it for certain now, so take my advice, dear. _

Rey smiled at her insistence.

“Ben’s hurting,” she said after a moment, hoping Leia’s spirit could comfort her son.

_ I can, _ she responded kindly, having heard Rey’s thought.

And with a pleasant lift, like morning mist lifting from the flora in the first rays of dawn, Leia’s presence left her mind. The Force energy expelled from her body with a slow, relaxing sigh, and she stilled a moment, reveling in the glimmer of closure it provided her. The moment passed as she tuned into the quiet of the Falcon. Only the whir of the ship moving through hyperspace filled the cabin, Ben’s pained sobs seemingly absent from the atmosphere. She tentatively stood from the pilot’s seat and made her way into the cabin, finding Ben exactly where she left him.

He had curled up on his side, arms and legs tucked against his chest, sleeping peacefully. It was a heartbreakingly endearing sight, this massive man curled up and vulnerable like a child after a nightmare. His face was relaxed in his fresh slumber, streaks of tears still drying on his cheeks. Rey moved closer and felt Leia’s presence resurface. She could feel it in her mind, but in a detached way, as if she were outside herself, watching it unfurl. The bond sung quietly in a lullaby, and Rey realized it was Ben’s mind Leia was caressing, the distant touch she felt across the bridge of their connection. She suddenly felt like a voyeur, and moved to retreat, when she caught a single sentiment:

_ I’ll always be with you. _

And her signature evaporated into the Force around them. Rey waited a moment, breathing the weight of the air in and out of her tired lungs. Then she moved for the resting Ben, perching gently next to his head. She lifted a hand and slowly ran her fingers through his soft, thick, dark hair. He stirred, just a trace, leaning into her touch as he hummed sleepily.

She smiled down at his peaceful form as she continued stroking. He was so beautiful. So calm, so unmarred by the torrent of anxiety that seemed to perpetually grip him. She’d only been in the position once before, albeit a vastly different context. After the disaster of the throne room, after the Holdo maneuver, Rey had woken first. Ben was so peaceful amidst the carnage of the room, his face unpinched as it was now. She had reclipped his saber to his belt, stroked his face with an  _ I’m sorry,  _ and left with the fractured halves of Anakin’s lightsaber. Here and now, she could linger, hold him,  _ know  _ he was safe and he was  _ with  _ her.

Rey knew, no denying anymore, that she was in love with Ben Solo.

-

_ I’ll always be with you. _

Ben floated in nothing as this truth washed over him, sunk into him, became component to everything he once was and would be.

Leia wasn’t gone. He felt a piece of her in his very soul, his fractured, imperfect, healing soul, and it propelled an air of comfort from his core outward. He hung in that colorless, tranquil nothing, was it water or air…? It didn’t matter. He was content. The warmth of his mother resonated within and around him.

Then, the nothing shifted and his soul changed shape, like a flower blooming in spring. His mother’s signature dwindled to a dormancy in his soul as another took hold. A familiar, beautiful air filled a gap he didn’t realize was there and the warm nothing became a peaceful, calming bluish grey, a lazy storm of rains. It was Rey. She enveloped him in the comfort he craved, even in his sleep-addled state. It was all he needed. He could let go, could drift and drift and drift…

Ben woke as the Falcon entered Ahch-To’s atmosphere. He was no longer curled along the booth around the Dejarik table, a reality he was grateful for, for the sake of his back. Instead he laid stretched upon a generous bunk in a dated sleeping chamber...the one his father used to sleep in. He didn’t know when or how Rey had dragged him to the comfort of the bunk, but he was grateful for it. He swung his legs over the pallet’s edge, noting first his bare feet, which hovered conveniently over his boots, tucked neatly against the bunk’s frame. His eyes found his cloak seconds later, folded neatly and placed on an empty shelf built into the opposite wall. Rey was far more caring than he deserved.

He exited the chamber after replacing his boots on his feet, forgoing the cloak. Rey sat in the pilot’s seat, steering the Falcon down over the turbulent waves of the expansive Ahch-To oceans. She didn’t turn as he entered the cockpit, focused intently on her smooth steering.

“Rey,” he murmured.

She glanced over her shoulder, face blooming into an immaculate, joyous smile at the site of him. His heart strained against his chest.

“Ben,” she breathed, before returning her vision to the ship’s trajectory. “How are you feeling?”

“Better. It...” he paused for a moment, registering the sting of his loss, “it’s still...hard. But she’s with me. I know it. I can feel it.”

“She always will be.”

Ben smiled softly. A moment of comfortable silence stretched out and he took the copilot’s seat, casting a few discreet glances her way.

“She’s with you too.”

Rey gazed at him another moment, smiling sadly.

“I know.”

He wanted to thank her for everything she’d done for him in the past day. Properly. With more than words. He wanted her to feel appreciated, to feel needed, to  _ feel  _ loved. But maybe now wasn’t the time or place to...but she needed to know-

“Do you want to fly it?”

“Hmm?” Ben pulled himself from his reverie, eyeing Rey.

“Do you want to fly the Falcon? Land us? I mean, it’s...it’s your ship now, isn’t it?”

Were there no limits to her consideration? Eyes wide and glossed with gratitude, he nodded and turned to the controls.

“You...” Rey began, tentatively. “You know how to fly it, right?”

Ben snorted and turned to give her a look.

“Okay, sorry!” Her cheeks reddened as her hands flew up defensively. “Just wanted to be sure.”

“I know,” he smiled, hoping to ease her flustered state. “I’ve got this.”

Flying the Millenium Falcon felt natural. Like home. He felt Leia’s signature glimmer in his mind.

_ Your father would be proud. _

He hoped he would.

-

It started raining not long after they landed. Ben picked up his pace on the steps, moving for the huts, while Rey slowed and lifted her face to the wash of the water. Rain still amazed her, yes, but there was something about the rain on Ahch-To specifically. It seemed more potent, more alive, like the island itself.

She had missed its energy. Her first residence on island had been overwhelming, intimidating her as someone who knew so little of what she could do as she implored a legend for his guidance. But now...it felt right. Like the island had been awaiting her return.

“Rey,” Ben called, having gained significant distance.

She inhaled the balmy atmosphere and savored the impact of the chilled drops caressing her still form before ushering her legs to continue. Ben waited for her at the landing, his arms looped around some essentials that had long been stored in the Falcon; more blankets, a medkit, a change of clothes that were probably once Han’s, a few non perishable rations for conditions that might make hunting out of the question. Rey gathered some of her own essentials she’d gradually stored in the Falcon over the last year, along with the Jedi texts, her staff, and an old, dusty, but usable box of tools.

Together, they meandered into the small circle of earth the huts framed and stilled. An odd, awkward tension gripped the energy between them and Ben pivoted to face her.

“They’re, uh, they’re all empty. So…”

“So…?”

“Whichever one you want. You pick first. I’ll...take whatever you don’t.”

Rey snorted a small laugh, hoping her amused reaction would distract from the flush spreading up her neck and cheeks. She knew he couldn’t see the internal flutter that accompanied it, but she sure hoped he couldn’t feel it. So she laughed at his awkwardness, and tried to diffuse the tension.

“You’d be taking a lot of huts then.”

“Yeah-no, well…” he was mildly flustered. “I just...I mean, I want you to be comfortable. So you should go first. Pick the best one. If you want.”

“I think they’re all the same,” she offered, her smile born of his endearing discomposure unmoved.

“The one I stayed in last had a layer of moss on the stone bench. So that’s probably way more comfortable to sleep on.”

“I’ll get by,” she replied slyly as she backed into the nearest structure. She ducked into its open door, leaving Ben alone, eyes following her every move.

He eventually returned to the hut he had mentioned. The rest of their evening was spent settling in separately, before Rey approached his hut where they shared a ration together by the firelight. They talked about nothing in particular, just indulged in one another’s voices and company as their bodies and minds worked to recover from the physical and emotional exertion of the day. Ben did not openly mourn in front of Rey, and it concerned her.

After a long bout of comfortable silence, Rey’s exhaustion caught up to her and she forced herself to stand, lest she fall asleep right then and there. In Ben’s hut. Next to him.

“I should get to sleep,” she explained. “You should too.”

He nodded, and slowly moved from his seat on the floor to a tired perch on the moss blanket of the stone pallet.

“Ben?”

“Yes?”

“Will you help me build my lightsaber? Tomorrow? I’d like to...train with you.”

He blinked. She felt a thrum across the fibers of their bond, a deep shade of satisfied happiness.

“Absolutely.”

She smiled in return. The air suspended, as if to tell her she wasn’t done. It wasn’t time to leave yet. She took a step toward him and reached up, taking his face between her hands. He looked up at her in  _ that way,  _ like she was the only person in the entire galaxy, like he loved her. Everything suddenly clicked. This was the look of love. His confession had finally placed that unplaceable element of this gaze, the one he reserved for her alone. She should tell him she loved him too. She should lean down and kiss his lips again, take him completely and give herself to him completely. She should. She  _ wanted  _ to.

Yet...as she contemplated these actions, a voice within her held her back.  _ Not yet. _

Immediately, she yielded to it.

With a slight tug of his head toward her, she brought her lips against the center of his forehead, and willed the most comforting and loving feelings she could into his mind. She could only hope it would soften his dreams, should he have any. He sighed shakily beneath her affections, and she let the sound take its effect on her, from her heart to the ripple it sent down her spine, before it pooled low and warm in her abdomen. She pulled away.

“Goodnight, Ben.”

“Goodnight, Rey.”

Before her every instinct could overpower the one that currently steered her decisions, she turned and left him to sleep.

-

Rey was gone before Ben awoke, having slept in after a fitful rest had ricocheted his dreams between his mother’s death and the reassurance of her spirit. The pain of her death had dulled a bit, due only to the knowledge that she was with him. The grief, dull as it was, still lingered in him, like he’d been detached from the last support holding him up and he was free falling, no end in sight. His parachute, the cushion that caught him, and his only solace was Rey. And she was with him. In his mind, half of his soul, and physically  _ here  _ with him. Here where he could see her, hear her, touch her…

He followed her signature up the stony cliff until the steps ended at an imposing structure...it was majestic, yet somehow humble. A temple. He entered the naturalistic archway, beholding a symmetrical, open cave.

Rey sat in the very middle of the stone floor, cast in the light of the opposite wall’s archway, which, from where he stood, he could see a cliff. Her staff lay next to her and she was facing away from him, hunched over some sort of...pool?

“Rey?”

Her posture straightened and she turned, offering him a delicate smile. The sun streamed in through the archway behind her, framing her in a subtle, golden glow.

“Good morning.”

“What are you doing?” Ben asked as he approached, peeking over her shoulder for a better view of the low piscina. It was shallow; a low, circular pool of clear, stagnant water over a mosaic of pebbles. He recognized the subject. The Prime Jedi.

Rey shifted and he retrained his attention on her. She was moving to face him, holding up the disassembled hilt of Vader’s saber. An opened box of tools sat on the floor in front of her crossed legs.

“Can you help me?”

“Yeah,” he sank to a seat across from her, taking the opened hilt from her grasp. “It’s like meditating. So you’ll need to harness the Force energy around you in that same way.”

She nodded.

“So go ahead, center yourself.”

Her brows furrowed for just a glimpse, as if entertaining the beginning of a doubt before casting it aside.

“I’ll be right here,” he reassured her.

Rey looked at him for a moment, a sheen of gratitude passing over her gaze. Then her eyes shut and she rolled her shoulders back, placing her palms on her knees. He watched her body move with a deep inhale, and felt the humming of her energy with a slow exhale. She repeated this, then again, then again as he watched, bewitched by the serenity that painted her freckled face. Finally he sensed her signature shift, and it became something smooth, something solid and clear. The Force carried her aura through the cave, permeating every surface and sinking thoroughly into the depths of his mind. Ben sighed silently through his nose.

“Open up your hand,” he urged gently, and she did. Carefully, he summoned the kyber from its hilt and it floated upward, hovering just beneath his palm. “Can you feel that?”

“Yes,” she breathed.

“Good. Take it from me.”

Her eyes remained shut, her body remained still, but the fingers of her upturned right hand extended, imploring the crystal to her. It responded with ease, floating from the shelter of his palm to hover above hers. He shuddered at the sensation of their signatures mixing the moment of the transfer; it was like paint permeating water, a stark greeting which immediately diffused into a blend until both parts were equal, until both parts became one.

“Hold it,” he murmured. Her fingers slowly curled in, engulfing the crystal in her grasp. “Do you feel your hold on the Force?”

“I do.”

“Okay. You need to shape it into a point, and direct it straight into the kyber crystal.”

“Oh…” she faltered a second.

“Don’t panic. I’m here, remember? Just...access your happiest memories,” he paused, frustrated with the unhelpful plainness of his suggestion. He tried again, voice soft. “When is the first time you felt love?”

Her breath grew a little sharp.

“When you felt true compassion?”

“I…”

“You have love in your life, Rey. You always have. I know some of it’s been painful. A lot of it. But…” he paused, contemplating whether or not he was about to cross a line. “You’re Rey Nemina. Your parents called you little bird. And they loved you more than anything in the world.”

Tears were running down Rey’s cheeks and Ben’s insides twisted, engulfed in fresh guilt. Except... the energy of her Force signature brightened. He could almost see the halo it formed around her serene figure. So Ben leaned in a touch, encouraging her to recall all the love in her life.

“Your friends love you. Dameron and…Finn? Finn. Rose Tico. I saw how she looked at you. She loves you. My family loved you. You were  _ hope _ to them. They loved you so much.”

Her aura became a fluid thing, a warm river of crystal clear water coursing through the atmosphere of the temple, across the threads of their bond, into his mind. He sighed at her presence.

“I love you. You saved my life, Rey.”

She exhaled shakily, and with the gradual dissipation of the potent Force energy, she opened her eyes. Rey  _ looked  _ at him. She looked at him like he was the only other person in the galaxy.

Her fingers unfolded to reveal a translucent crystal, healed of its red hue. She gasped excitedly as she eyed it, before gazing back at him, eager to share her accomplishment with him.

Ben smiled at her in return.

“You did it.”

“I did,” she breathed in wonderment, holding his gaze before surging forward and throwing her arms around his neck. She turned her head inward at the embrace, pressing her nose into his cheek. A chill ran down his spine at the tickle of her breath on his skin. “Thank you, Ben. I couldn’t have done this without you.”

“Yes you could have,” he murmured, arms encircling her waist.

She scoffed against his cheek and pulled away, watching him for a moment. Her smile faded as a sort of coy apprehension overtook her features, hazel gaze flicking between his eyes and his lips.

Ben froze, nerves vibrating with the anticipation of a kiss. Except it was tainted, marked with a discordant hope that maybe she wouldn’t. Why was that?

Perhaps it was the overwhelming surge of guilt and desire battling within him. Ben was not exactly new to this. There had been secret, after-dark activities at Luke’s academy. He’d kissed a girl. He’d touched a girl, just a little, in the heat of the moment before things started to feel awkward and they agreed to cease their gawky fumblings. It was little experience, but it was more than Rey had. Was he afraid she’d feel pressured?

That wasn’t quite right...it felt deeper than fear. Of course he didn’t want her to feel pressured into anything, and of course he was nervous too, but this felt...ugly. Childish.

She hadn’t said she loved him back.

Ben immediately berated himself at the epiphany. She didn’t have to tell him that. She might not even feel that way. He knew she cared about him. That was enough. That was  _ more  _ than enough. He knew that, he  _ knew  _ that was true.

That ugly little voice still burrowed into his mind, faint and yet powerful, like Snoke's voice had been. It wasn’t...no. It wasn’t. He was gone.

Rey was eyeing him still, but her nervous intention had been smeared in hesitation. She had sensed the retreat, the petty, parasitic voice that had pulled him into himself.

He’d ruined the moment.

Forcing his eyes away from hers finally, he fiddled with the disassembled hilt.

“Are...you planning on using this?” He asked, somewhat awkwardly, as he held it up. Rey deflated and shrank back so slightly he could have missed it, and the reaction both broke his heart and steeled his resolve. She adjusted to the change in subject and studied the hilt for a moment. He could feel a light fog roll over the clarity of their connection.

“I could...but...I don’t think that would feel right.”

Ben nodded, understanding her implication.

“I mean, I was planning on making my own this whole time.”

“Do you know where you want to start?”

She nodded at this and turned to grab her staff. She pulled it across her lap to show him the end of the prop; a long, detailed sort of cap about the same length as the average lightsaber hilt.

“I don’t really need this anymore,” she explained, voice tinged with a little sentimentality. “So I figured this piece up here would work. It would really be all my own.”

Ben watched her as she eyed the old staff, which he knew without even asking or glancing into her memories she had carried nearly her whole life. A thought occurred to him.

“You’ve used this to defend yourself, right?”

“Yes. For as long as I can remember.”

“Maybe you should make your saber double bladed, then.”

She looked at him, raising an eyebrow as if to implore elaboration.

“If you’re most comfortable sparring with a staff, that might be your best bet.”

“I didn’t even consider that was an option…”

“It’s just a bit of a modification. What do you think?”

Her eyes fell back to the staff, grazing up and down the length of it. Her brows pinched ever so slightly in concentration, and she stood and paced away from him, the whole time gazing intently at the staff. Ben watched as her stance widened, firmed in place with the subtle outward twist of her left heel. She then swung the staff around her body, experty, striking at nothing in particular.

Her motions were unreservedly transfixing, and his pulse quickened in a surge as he recognized some of his own techniques, modified and hybridized with her staff-wielding dexterity.

Rey halted her process and turned to face him, features set in resolve.

“Yeah. It feels right.”

-

Rey’s legs dangled over the cliff's edge as she fiddled with the second kyber chamber of her nearly completed hilt. Everything seemed secure, which she had concluded the first three times she’d checked it, long after Ben had left her to go fishing. She glanced up to the sky to find it slathered in shades of gold, peach, pink, and the softest blue as the sun continued its descent. She hummed pleasantly and scooped up the healed crystal which she’d carefully and onerously separated in two for the hilt’s double-bladed modifications. Each piece clicked snugly into place and she excitedly reached for the screwdriver, shutting the plating and winding each little bolt into place.

Her lightsaber was ready.

With a heavy, nervous exhale, Rey stood. She just held the hilt for a moment, a segment of her trusty old staff about the length of her arm, and mapped her work. Nerves bubbled within her chest and across the tops of her shoulders as her thumb hovered over the activator circling the hilt’s middle.

She extended her arm straight out, and swiped her thumb across the activator, pushing it like a dial in a short spin around the hilt’s circumference.

With that familiar whir, two kyber blades shot out of each end of the former staff, in a clean, brilliant yellow.

She gasped at the color and released an excited laugh, twirling the saber around her body experimentally. The Force swarmed her being, permeating every cell inside her and stretching across the lightsaber, as if the blade were merely another limb. It felt familiar and natural and  _ right.  _ And that brilliant golden kyber...it was like the sun itself.

Rey deactivated her saber and turned for the archway of the temple, sprinting back toward the steps to find Ben. Despite the sudden coolness between them. Despite the way he’d closed himself off from her after she healed her crystal. Had he seen something in her mind that upset him? She felt rejected as she caught the one feeling rattling around his mind in a low, terse voice before the fog settled over their bond:  _ doubt.  _ It stung.

At the moment, however, her pride and excitement drowned the fresh sting of the rebuff. This was  _ her  _ lightsaber. Her very own. Not Anakin’s which called to her. Not Ben’s when she needed it. It was  _ hers.  _ S he wanted to share this moment, reveal her accomplishment to someone who would share her pride. And that happened to be Ben.

She skidded down each step, swinging the baton of a hilt alongside her. The cluster of huts came into view and Rey nearly leapt down the final stretch steps. A small plume of smoke rose from an unseen bonfire, and she knew he was there.

“Ben!” She called as she ran to the small clearing.

He was hunched over the fire, hoisting one of those massive channelfish, skewered on a stick, to hang from the makeshift supports he’d thrown together. He settled the fish in place before turning to give her his full attention.

She didn’t wait. She held her arm out rigid, the hilt perpendicular to her body, and flipped the activator. Again, golden yellow kyber beams shot out from each end, brighter in the increasingly dimming light. The corners of Ben’s lips turned upwards as an expression of pure pride overtook his face.

Rey cocked an eyebrow. “Fight me, Solo.”

He laughed a moment, and oh what a beautiful sound it was. Then, in a flash, his arm extended and a dark blur zipped into his awaiting palm, before a brilliant white light illuminated his figure to the accompaniment of a buzzing whir.

“Not too long,” he requested simply, and charged at her.

His lightsaber swung up from a low hold in a grandiose arc, and Rey met the strike with a powerful swing of her own. Too bad for Ben, she knew  _ exactly  _ how he fought. She pushed him off and steeled her arms, bringing the golden saber level with her hips before spinning her whole body toward him, the momentum swinging the kyber staff around her frame until she braced her legs and pushed her right arm forward, leading the corresponding end of her blade into the junction of his hilt and crossjet.

They locked eyes, and Rey saw something deep and dark...not like Kylo Ren, but something enticing, dangerous for only the two of them. Something that confused her even further given his unexplained retreat from her earlier. Something like...like  _ desire... _

Lost in her contemplation of his heavy gaze, he saw his window and pushed her off. She regrouped quickly, going low in a wide sweep which he leapt over with ease. They danced with each other like this, pushing and pulling, knowing each other’s limits as the very soul of their dyad throbbed with life. Feeling the power of his blows layered on top of her maneuvers, she leapt into the strain of confidence and spun toward him again with a devilish smile.

But Ben experienced the benefits of this dyad too.

He met her just before the final rotation, just as she was bringing her saberstaff up, ready to strike. Her back slammed into his chest and the flash of his white saber forced her to squint as it shot between her blade and her body. Before she could react, a thick arm looped around her front, resting in the crooks of her elbows and pressing her against him. He was caging her.

She fidgeted uselessly under his grasp, huffing an exasperated sigh. His large arm only tightened against her upper arms and chest.

“Give up yet?” his deep voice was vibrating against her ear, hot breath tickling her neck.

“You wish,” she panted, although she made no moves to back her words. The way he held her so tightly, the way he leaned in  _ so close  _ to her neck...it did something to her. And after the way he had looked at her only moments before...Rey wanted to be  _ in danger. _ They stood there, unmoving, breathing heavily.

“It kind of seems like I won,” he murmured.

“Don’t you think that’s a bit naive to assume?” her voice was low and breathy.

“You tell me,” he challenged.

But...what kind of a challenge was it?

Her brain demanded she throw her hips back against him to disrupt his balance, and free herself to counter attack. Her body demanded otherwise.

His arm shifted to readjust its hold on her, and she latched onto the opportunity.

She pushed it forward, raising her freed arms straight above her head, both in preparation to swing and to prevent maiming him in her next maneuver. She began to swivel on her heels, weight sliding off her right so she could push it against his chest--until he caught her. He reacted just as quickly as she seized her moment, the same arm she’d just shoved away wrapping around her figure and caging her against him in a flash. 

Except now they were face to face.

Her chest pressed up against his and the momentum of his pull wrenched the tension from her arms, wrists landing gracelessly on his shoulders. She held her saberstaff behind his neck, staring into his suddenly  _ very  _ close eyes. He was giving her that look. Lips parted just slightly, frozen as she was, like he was unafraid or unable to do what was screaming in the air around them, what was swimming across her entire front as it pressed flush against his. It was like they were on the precipice of something, teetering just over the edge. All it would take is for the distance between them to close, and then they’d be free falling. Together. Into the thing that made her insides heat and tighten.

Rey steeled. He could make the first move for once.

An unpleasant crackle snapped the buzzing, velvety bubble they stood in and he stepped back abruptly, ineptly, as if he’d just come to. He turned in the direction of the sound.

The fish’s underside was starting to burn.

“Ahh, uh…” he mumbled awkwardly, deactivating his lightsaber and jogging toward the fire.

Rey’s shoulders slumped with a sigh and she deactivated her saberstaff. Out of instinct, she moved to clip it to her belt before the hilt’s significant size returned to her. She released another sigh.

Ben turned the fish meticulously, inspecting how salvageable the burned pieces were before glancing her way.

“Strap it to your back,” he murmured.

“Hmm?”

“It might feel better to draw from over your shoulder.”

Rey glanced down at the longer hilt. It certainly was far too long to strap at her hip, and far too short to use as an actual staff when dormant. She supposed she could modify her belt. She’d have to grow used to drawing from that position.

“Thanks,” she responded to Ben. He only nodded in response.

That cold, closed off fog had returned.

They finished preparing dinner in silence. They ate in silence. Rey thought he might have wanted to talk when he moved from his seated position, until started in the direction of his hut. Rey’s heart twitched in disappointment. It was unclear whether or not he sensed it, but he paused next to her. She glanced up, and the disappointment deepened at the sight of him. His face was a mask. The same mask he wore when she arrived on the  _ Supremacy  _ one year prior. A studious, uncertain gaze, only expressed through his eyes.

Her shoulders sagged a hair.

“Goodnight, Rey.”

“Night,” she whispered, finally pulling her focus from him and recentering it on the crackling fire as it slowly dimmed with the rise of the island’s nocturnal sounds. She could feel Ben’s eyes still trained on her, his figure unmoving in her periphery. He seemed to wait a moment, watching her for any further words or acknowledgement. But she would not give him the satisfaction. His sudden aloofness disturbed her. The fact that it seemed to be the product of her attempts at more intimate interaction only exacerbated the wound, flooding her insides with rejection and humiliation. So she zoned stubbornly into the orange flickers of the flame before her, intent on ignoring him despite her complete awareness of his presence.

The moment passed and she felt a flutter in his signature, a sliver of the vulnerability she craved that he had, for some reason, taken back. He moved, bending slightly to reach her. She remained still as his fingers ghosted her cheek, sliding up and brushing a strand freed from her braid behind her ear. His fingers pulled away, ever so slightly, as if second guessing himself, before they retracted completely, and he continued to his hut, leaving her by the fire.

She stared into the flames and did not see them as her mind fixated on the lingering prickle of his touch.

-

Rey was upset with him.

They hadn’t spoken as much in the two days since he retreated from her, unreasonably piqued by the lack of response to the most vulnerable admission he’d ever voiced. It was  _ so  _ stupid. Yet he still abided by his decision, tucked away behind the cover of the fog between their minds. What was wrong with him? Why was he so untrusting? This was  _ Rey,  _ the woman he would literally die for. She could have told him to fuck off in response to his confession of love and that would have been okay. He knew that truth in his mind and soul, causing his adherence to the doubt to perplex him even further. How could it have this power over him if he knew it was irrational?

He didn’t know how much she saw into his baseless distance, but she knew he was being withholding. And she did not have time for it.

She meditated, she read the texts, she went off on walks alone often. He didn’t know exactly where to, but he had a strong feeling it was the cave. They weren’t avoiding each other by any means, it was just...tense. Awkward. He wouldn’t say anything about it and neither would she.

The moments he relished were the hours they’d spend sparring. In these sessions he could talk to her unimpeded, he could be close to her. It was utterly gratifying and tremendously exhausting. Where Rey was spunky, daring, and feral, Ben was disciplined, graceful, and practiced. They always matched, each duel a stalemate. Equals.

He’d gotten a laugh out of her at sunrise the day prior, when the hilt of her saber had whacked against the back of his knee and he’d emitted an awkward  _ ow.  _ The lilt of her laugh was so precious and he realized immediately how direly he missed it. All their tension melted away when they sparred. And so it became the part of his day he looked forward to the most.

They hadn’t today, however, as a heavy curtain of rain had been assaulting the island for hours. Ben was fairly certain it was evening at this point, although he couldn’t precisely tell, since the sky had been painted the same angry, textured grey since he woke.

He pondered what she might be doing as he sat on the moss of his hut’s bed, adjusting a loose plate along the cuff of his artificial hand.

“You look pretty forlorn,” Luke’s voice interrupted his train of thought.

He sighed, hands flopping into his lap in annoyed defeat. “Can you not do that?” He glanced up at his uncle’s ghost, who smiled sadly.

“Sorry, kid.” A brief silence stretched between them, hung thick with an unspoken sentiment. “Your mother is proud of you.”

Ben’s heart twisted a bit and he hung his head slightly, fixing his gaze on his hands.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t save her.”

“Ben,” a familiar, feminine voice reproached. “Don’t say that.” 

His head snapped back up to find the bluish, translucent figure of Leia, next to her twin.

“Mom…” he breathed.

“See Ben, you’re,” Luke sighed, searching for the right words. “You’re a good man. Perfect? No, absolutely not. You’re a bit of a mess, truthfully. But you’re good.”

_ “Luke,”  _ his mother scolded.

“What? I’m not gonna lie to him. He’s a grown man, he can handle the truth.”

“Don’t do my job.” Leia pointed a warning finger at her brother and turned back to her son, ghostly face taking on an effervescent warmth. “What’s wrong?”

“Mom, come on…”

“I know something’s wrong, talk to me.”

He sighed.

“I've upset Rey.”

Leia’s face shifted to something knowing, and she moved to sit next to her son. She took his hands in hers and stared intently into his eyes, prepared to deliver the emotional advice parents did when it came to matters of the heart.

“Stop being so much like your father.”

Ben frowned. “What?”

“Get over your pride and  _ go talk to her.  _ For the love, you two are the most stubborn people I’ve ever known. Maybe more than Han.”

Ben just stared at his mother, unsure now why he had expected her to dive into sentiments. She was Leia Organa, an iron woman.

Luke shifted, interrupting their...moment.

“She’s not wrong, Ben, you and Rey are far more similar than any two people in the galaxy. Maybe ever.”

“Okay,” Ben started, “I’ll...go talk to her then. Uh...thanks.”

“Don’t get defensive with her, dear.”

“Yeah, okay, Mom.”

Luke huffed a laugh at the dynamic. It was as though Leia and Ben were catching up on all those years of adolescence in this moment. Her figure rose and rejoined him.

“She cares about you, Ben. Just don’t be stupid.”

And with that odd brand of affection, his mother and uncle vanished back into the Force. The rain pounded against the roof of his hut, calming him despite its particularly aggressive percussion. He focused on it, zoning out to its steady rhythm, to the sleepy, distant rumble of approaching thunder. He could feel the Force join his pulse. It entreated him to move.

_ She is your destiny, Ben Solo. Accept your soul. Your denial will destroy you. _

He stood and glided to the door of his hut, stepping through with no regard for the severe precipitation. It soaked him as he moved toward the circle, each step coasting across the slick earth, as if guided by something that was not him. He rounded a hut to stand in the clearing, finding a soaked Rey a mere step from her door. They locked eyes and she froze, watching him expectantly.

He mapped every part of her; from the drenched braid hanging over her shoulder, to the way her brow pinched as she squinted through the sheets of rain, to her mid-walk stance, always a little tense, always a little defensive. The long hilt of her saberstaff poked up from over her shoulder, attached to a tan leather strap she’d modified from her belt...which still hosted Anakin’s lightsaber.

Ben took a few steps closer, enough so she could hear him clearly.

“Do you want to heal that?”

Her head followed his line of sight to the repaired hilt, and she glanced back up at him, nose scrunched in apprehension.

“You want to?”

“We broke it,” he stepped closer, an arms length away. “We should be the ones to heal it.”

Her features softened slowly, naturally, as her eyes surveyed every inch of his face, lips parting faintly as though she were about to speak. But she shut them just as quickly, pulling her bottom lip under her teeth and worrying at it. Ben swallowed at the sight. She released her lip and met his eyes, nodding in the direction of her door.

Ben released a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding and followed her through the low archway.

It was dark in her hut. He immediately went to the fire pit, working a flame to life as she unbuckled the crossbody strap holding her saber and dropped it onto her bed. It was a rather rugged stone surface, thin blankets laid out over the uneven surface. The blankets he’d offered her from the Falcon were folded in a plush bunch at the head of the pallet, serving as a pillow. Ben cringed at the discomfort he knew she must attempt to sleep in. She really should have taken his hut. He’d insist she take it now, he knew that.

“Thank you,” Rey murmured, nodding at the fire as she took a seat on the floor, leaning her back against the stony bed. She pulled the old toolbox into her lap and began rifling through it. Ben took a seat next to her, close, and she didn’t hesitate to pass him the hilt. It buzzed in his palm, something welcoming, accepting...like it was at home. He smiled to himself, finally feeling the call of his grandfather’s lightsaber.

The clicks and scrapes of tools being sifted through had stopped, and he looked up. Rey was watching him, a glint of wonderment in her eyes.

“I guess it really does belong to you,” she offered him a meek smile.

“It called to you too,” he reminded her. She smirked a bit and returned her attention to the box, removing a screwdriver just a moment later. “Here, let me.” Rey took the mended hilt from his palm and got to work, face scrunching in concentration.

Ben could only watch her face, completely bewitched by the expression of a girl who grew up fending for herself, fixing up her crafts and working with scrap.  _ Talk to her.  _ His lips parted just a touch, mind scrambling for the exact right words to-

“How did you learn my last name?” She asked quietly, eyes still trained on her work.

“It was a vision. I found the...weapon they were killed with.”

Her hands slowed, but did not stop as she registered his answer. He saw her neck tense for a few fleeting seconds before she resumed her pace.

“They called me little bird.”

“Yeah,” he acknowledged, recalling the sweet endearment. “Do you remember any of it?”

“Bits and pieces. I’ve locked it away for so long, it’s like I’m finally starting to see it again, just through a foggy glass.” The last bolt loosened and she collected each of them, offering the handful to him for safekeeping. “Rey Nemina,” she finally met his eye again, “I wonder who the Neminas are.”

Ben took the bolts from her grasp, holding her eye contact for a lingering moment. He knew her implication. He knew she wondered how  _ nothing  _ they were, where their place was in this story. What their legacy was. If only she knew,  _ really  _ knew how little that mattered when she was who she was.

“They’re you, Rey.”

She didn’t return her attention to the hilt. Only her eyes changed, glossing with doubt and vulnerability.

“Nobody?”

“Nobody and everything in the galaxy.”

She pursed her lips, forcing back tears.

“All of this would have gone to shit a long time ago if you weren’t around.”

A sheepish, grateful smile spread across her lips.  _ Thank you.  _ She shifted her attention back to the hilt, easily prying the protective plating open.

“So,” she started, turning in her seat to face him more directly. “We each take a half?”

He watched her for a second, mapping the traces of rawness left from her questions before reaching out and gently taking her left wrist. He turned her palm upward and held it, free hand hovering over the open hilt to summon the broken kyber pieces. They floated up with ease, and he guided them toward Rey’s awaiting hand. The fractured halves landed softly in the center of her palm, which he covered with his own.

The atmosphere sparked and became fluid, and Rey quietly gasped.

It was just like the year before. The night in the rain when the Force had connected them. When she’d reached out to him and he’d met her, their hands  _ just  _ touching. A sensory overload which felt right, like coming home.

Here they were, one year later, the same feeling permeating every one of his senses; only it was heightened, more potent as they worked in tandem to heal what they had fractured.

Her hazel eyes both darkened and glowed in the flickering firelight, unmoving from his own. In this moment, beneath her hypnotic gaze, he could feel the exact spot where they ceased to be individuals, and melted into one. A shared soul.

The energy of the Force around them reached a high, then settled, fluttering down to a subtle rumble throughout them.

He removed his hand from hers to reveal one, whole crystal, free from any cracks or blemishes. Rey smiled at their accomplishment in quiet excitement before meeting his eyes again. She wore that expression again. The one he was scared of. The one that woke the petty, irrational voice that had leaked into his mind from his unresolved trust issues. Rey’s smile faltered.

Fuck.

He needed to leave.  _ Talk to her.  _ He needed to give her space, give himself space, before he made things unpleasant.  _ It’s too late for that, talk to her.  _ He leaned forward, gripped her face between his hands, and pressed a lingering kiss to the top of her forehead. He felt her relax, just a little, beneath him.  _ No. Talk to her. _

He stood.

“Ben?”

He stepped back, too rapidly, toward the door. His pulse was far too fast and heavy in his heart and neck and ears.

“I’m…”

“Ben, why are you being like this?” She stood.

“I’m sorry,” he offered quietly, earnestly. Then he turned on his heel and marched out of the hut, into the darkness of night and the angry storm. He made it to the edge of the clearing before his body seized up and he was trapped, gripped in place by Rey’s will.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Her voice demanded behind him. Thunder boomed, much nearer to the island now. She rounded his figure, stepping in front to face him. “You’ve shut yourself off. Is it the grief?”

“What? No, Rey, let me go, I can’t really explain it.”

“That’s bullshit.”

“I promise you, there is no good answer-”

_ “I don’t care,”  _ Rey snapped. She released her hold on him, and his body relaxed, but he did not move from where he stood. “We’re past this. We’ve been past this. It’s...it  _ hurts,  _ Ben. I feel like you’ve completely rejected me and I can’t tell why.”

“Because I’m  _ scared,”  _ he raised his voice. “I love you. _ I love you,  _ and I don’t know if you feel the same. I feel like I’m dangling. It’s juvenile, and it’s selfish, but it’s the truth and I didn’t want to pressure you by letting you know, or to acknowledge how  _ vulnerable  _ I feel.”

Rey stared at him, eyes wide and unblinking despite the unforgiving rain. Finally, the words sank in and her face pinched in frustration.

“Ben, I have been  _ trying  _ this whole time, and  _ every  _ attempt I made, I felt like you were pushing me away.”

“What…?”

“I love you, you  _ idiot,”  _ she yelled, exasperated. “I’ve been trying to show you and I’ve  _ never  _ done this. I felt like you were rejecting me, then you closed off your mind and it only made things  _ worse.” _

It was Ben’s turn to stare, heart racing at her confession, shame clawing at every iota of his conscience.

“I thought you might…” her voice halted, low and quiet, “abandon me. I can handle being alone, but after the trust I put in you…” She blinked at him through the rain, awaiting a response.

He was still frozen, processing the flood of her emotions he’d closed himself off from over the past few days. Rey loved him. Rey  _ loved  _ him. And he’d made her afraid. Made her question the trust she’d extended to him.

_ Say something. _

She pulled her lips into a line and pushed past him, retreating to her hut.

_ SAY SOMETHING. _

Ben shook himself and spun in the direction she’d just moved, possessed and resolute. He marched to the door and threw it open, startling Rey from where she stood by the fire. A streak of tears ran down her cheeks, still uncertain eyes softening at the sight of him. He beheld her for a moment, the only woman he’d ever loved, the only woman he  _ would  _ ever love, before starting toward her.

She had barely opened her mouth to address him before he covered it with a searing kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> !!!!!!!!!!!!!


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ben and Rey cross a threshold together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> s*xy time

When had she felt like this before?

Was it the throne room? The interrogation on Starkiller? This feeling of impossible knowing, enmeshed with another being, heightened by fear or desperation or hope.

He was kissing her.

Hard.

The hands he’d gripped her face with one moment prior tightened, fingers digging into her wet hair. His lips moved against hers, warm and fervent.

Rey had yet to react.

It had only been one moment since he stormed into her hut and pulled himself to her, but it felt like an eternity. An eternity where she was stalled, processing the exact intentions of this gesture. She knew what they were. This kiss...it was _different._

Her hands slid up his chest and she finally leaned into him, kissing back with equal ardor. It was consuming. Thunder boomed overhead and her ears buzzed with a wild, irresponsible courage she’d never felt. Her fingers dug into the fabric covering his chest and she opened her mouth, sliding her tongue against the seam of his lips. Ben hummed at her boldness and opened for her, moving to guide them back, back, back, until Rey felt a hard edge meet the backs of her knees.

She teetered back a bit, and Ben’s arm moved to wrap around her waist, crushing her impossibly closer against him. Her hands moved up in response, fingers skimming his neck before sinking into his drenched, dark hair. 

He then wrenched his head back, breaking the kiss with a wet smack.

Ben’s eyes roved over Rey’s face, her wide eyes mixed with love and lust and the trimmings of fear, her lips red and swollen from their attack against his own. The nagging voice of his trust issues was dead between the two of them, but he was about to lose himself to her. Would she want it? Would it hurt her?

“Tell me to stop,” he muttered, offering her an out.

Rey analyzed him for a moment, before tightening her grip on the ends of his hair.

“No.”

“Are you sure?”

“I want you,” her voice was dark and low. “All of you.”

Ben’s breath hitched.

Everything was about to change.

He plunged over the edge and brought his lips against hers once more, gently pushing her down on the rough stone bed. Placing his hand on either side of her head, he leaned down, slotting comfortably between her legs. She arched into him instantly, humming pleasantly into his mouth. He was dizzy, mind racing with the sensations of _Rey_ as it scrambled to remember the things he’d done before. The ones that had worked. The way her fingers grazed his neck and slid over his arms and down his chest was making it hard to think at all. The simplest touch from her was a myriad of sparks.

His weight shifted to his right arm as his left abandoned its post by her head to wind under the small of her back. The way it arched made his neck hot and Rey shivered a bit at this touch.

It rendered her head woozy. She could feel her pulse in her ears as the weight of him pressed further down on her, and his hand began to wander.

It was innocent enough, sliding from the curve of her back around to her waist, which he lazily stroked up and down. She savored the gentle affections of his hand on her waist as she continued to kiss him, all modesty forgotten in that area. Then his hand moved.

It slid slowly, in one long stroke, down her waist, over her hip, onto her thigh...which he gripped his imposing hand around and pulled up, so the inside of her thigh was pressed against his hip, knee bent. The maneuver crushed him even closer to her, against the part of her that caused the heat boiling low in her stomach to erupt and flutter. An odd, surprised noise jolted from her throat and she involuntarily tensed.

Ben pulled back and she huffed in protest at his absence. But he had stilled, looking at her with worrisome eyes. His frozen hand was still gripping her thigh.

“Are you okay?”

“Yes,” she breathed quickly.

His posture softed a hair, but his eyes were still colored in trepidation.

“Ben, if I want to stop, I _will_ say so. I promise.”

He considered her for a moment, eyes flitting across her face, before he leaned down again. Rey’s eyes fluttered closed and she tilted her chin up to meet him. Only a second later, she felt the contact of his soft lips against the base of her throat. She gasped and tensed again.

_It’s not your nerves. It’s good. This feels good._

The feeling of his mouth moving against her neck twisted something within her. She’d never felt anything so sensitive, so calming and yet so riling, just skimming the border of being too ticklish to handle. And it morphed her eager, anticipating insides into something of unadulterated _need,_ lust, and something like...like hunger.

The hum her throat set loose was low and gravelly, which seemed to embolden Ben. His lips opened over the junction of her neck and shoulder. She could feel his teeth and tongue work against the skin, sucking it between his lips and setting her nerve endings on fire. Her hands clawed their way up his arms and into his hair, where she clenched handfuls and tugged, fingers digging into his scalp. His fingers moved similarly against her thigh, kneading the muscle beneath her rain-soaked pants.

They groped at each other in tandem, her breath escalating with the placement of his mouth and hands. She opened her eyes to find Ben had pulled back and shifted again, now propped up on his right elbow. She felt the cool silicone of his prosthetic hand tracing the contours of her collarbones, from the center toward her shoulder, until his fingers met the neckline of her tunic. He eyed the spot for a moment, index finger curling ever so slightly beneath the wet fabric before his gaze began to flick between it and her.

_May I?_

Rey nodded eagerly, transfixed by the seductive coyness glazing his eyes. His fingers fully hooked around the fabric’s edge before tugging it down, slowly, off her shoulder. It wasn’t as sensuous as Ben would have liked; her top was heavy from the rain and clinging to her skin. But as he glanced up at her, he saw a gleam in her eye, an expression of awe and anticipation.

The wrap neckline of the garment loosened easily, and he paused to press a kiss to her freshly exposed shoulder. With one last look at her face, finding no doubt or reluctance, he peeled the fabric away from her chest.

A memory flashed across his mind; only a handful of nights before, they had connected while Rey was attempting to pull her top over her head. He’d caught a glimpse before his shame and embarrassment caught up to him.

Here, now, with her consent, he could marvel at her.

Goosebumps and freckles covered her taut skin. Her breasts were small and perky, a bit flushed under the circumstances. She was golden in the firelight. His eyes drifted back to hers.

“You’re beautiful, Rey.”

Her face flushed even redder as an appreciative smile graced her lips. He couldn’t help the smile he returned, before refocusing on her newly exposed skin. His hands shifted as he brought himself closer and he lowered his head, nose just brushing her sternum. She was _so_ warm, despite the chill of the rain that was still absorbing into her skin.

Ben dragged his lips lazily down her sternum, before turning his head and pressing a soft kiss into the underside of her left breast. Rey shivered at the affection to her skin, reflexively arching against his mouth for _more._ She could feel him smile against her, then pull away.

She lifted her head to protest, just in time to see him take the stiffened peak of her nipple in his mouth. 

The near sensory overload that was his aggressive kisses to her neck _paled_ in comparison to this. She released a little _oh_ as her head fell back and her eyes squeezed shut. It was consuming her, the pleasant wave of tingling warmth dulling the rest of her senses.

Ben’s hands began to move; the right slipped across her stomach to fumble with her belt, and the left, more gracefully, grazed up her waist until it engulfed her neglected breast. He squeezed it immediately and Rey shivered again, longer and less controllable.

Ben had done this before. She could tell. She didn’t care. Now, it was _just them._

Suddenly the warmth and comfort of his weight left her body. Rey sighed and propped herself up on her elbows, to find Ben had shifted his weight back onto his right arm.

“Why do you keep stopping?”

He glanced up at her through his messy, beautiful hair, and huffed a small laugh.

“I can’t get this blindly,” he replied, tugging at the buckle of her belt. It came undone in a second, and he yanked it away with a twinge of ferocity, which only stoked the heat within her.

She wiggled beneath him, eager to continue as his attention refocused on her. But instead of leaning over her again, he leaned back further and pulled his own shirt over his head, revealing that broad chest which had once made Rey so flustered. Her eyes followed the diagonal line that marred his marble skin...the scar she had given him. Their eyes met for a moment, as Ben sat perched between her legs, dark and yearning.

Then, with no warning, he gripped her hips in both hands and yanked her into his lap. Her legs straddled his thighs and he crushed her against him. Rey gasped at the sparks his skin against hers sent through her body. His hands smoothed up her arms until they reached the hanging neckline of her opened tunic and tugged it down, completely off, and discarded it somewhere on the ground.

“Be patient,” he teased with a smirk.

Just as quickly, he hoisted her down onto her back once more and pressed himself against her. Their noses brushed as she stared into his deep brown eyes, flecked with a honey gold in the light of the fire. The world swallowed itself for a fleeting moment and became as small as the space between their eyes. Never had the atmosphere felt so attuned to her, all colors and fluidity and contentment, as if for this single moment in time, everything was made just for the two of them.

Her fingers ghosted across his cheekbones.

“I love you,” Ben whispered.

She smiled.

“I love you too.”

With that exchange, the brakes were torn away. His lips crushed against hers in a blistering, earnest kiss. 

They opened to each other almost instantly, lips and teeth and tongues clashing in a paradoxical yet fitting blend of animalism and tenderness. Rey’s light touch on his cheeks turned into her fingers raking against his scalp. Ben’s mouth moved from kissing her lips to sucking on her neck, her earlobes, her shoulders…

He moved down to her collarbones. Her fingers ran aimlessly through his hair. He moved down further, licking up the underside of her breast before taking its peak in his mouth. Her fingers tightened around tufts of his hair. His hands skimmed the tops of her thighs, stroking up, down, grabbing kneading, easing toward their goal destination.

He rose on his knees, arching away from her lithe body, mouth still attached to her. His hand slid over her thigh before moving, _slowly,_ to its inner wall. He could feel her shiver beneath him. Ben’s fingertips grazed up, up, up...until they were pressed at the apex of her thighs.

Rey inhaled sharply.

It was the strangest thing she’d ever felt. Dizzy, alert, ticklish, hazy...a cacophony of chaotic sensations all hosted in between her legs, and she wanted to feel it again. She may not have had any experience practicing intimacy, but she wasn’t a fool. A few of her talks with Rose and Kaydel had been nothing if not enlightening.

“It was a little quick, but I don’t really care, I _needed_ that,” Kaydel had explained one exceptionally busy day when they were gathered around mugs of caf during a break. Rose had giggled in response.

“Was it good, though?”

“Yeah, I mean the sex itself was okay, but everything leading up? _Whew.”_

“How did you not get caught?” Rey had asked, nose scrunched in amusement.

“Oh it was so easy, everyone was way too distracted,” Kaydel explained. “Beaumont was inspecting the freighter for damages so I just followed him up there.”

“But what _exactly_ was he good at?” Rose had leaned in, eyebrow cocked.

Kaydel Ko Connix, the most comfortable and confident woman Rey had met, suddenly appeared a bit bashful.

“He’s _really_ good with his hands,” she had admitted.

Rey lifted her head to look at Ben. He pulled his mouth away from its occupation to meet her eyes.

“Do that again,” she commanded, low and dark. He smirked and pushed his fingers against her core, sending a ripple throughout her body. He began to rub slow, gentle circles against her and Rey’s mouth fell open with a sharp breath. The pool of heat gave way to a more potent sensation; the feeling of a knot tightening and pulling rigid, a small knot bundled beneath Ben’s fingers, with only the fabric of her pants to separate them.

He didn’t return his mouth to her body, instead just _watched_ as she began to unfurl beneath him. It was the most alluring sight he’d ever beheld. He could feel strain in his pants intensifying, urging him to _go further._

The fingers of his free hand dragged themselves away from their grip on Rey’s waist and moved for the fastenings of her pants. Mercifully, it was a simple clasp and zipper, nothing that would derail his attention from the shaped her mouth made, and the airiness of the breaths that left it.

The zipper slid down and he pulled his fingers away from her, instead sliding them up her hips to grip the waistline of the drenched, heavy linen. He gripped the fabric and tugged, down her hips, her thighs, her knees, moving off the bed to pull this drenched, difficult fabric, until they met her ankles. He then collected her boots along with the linen and pulled them off in a bundle to be cast to the floor.

Ben looked up.

She had propped herself up on her elbows to watch him, knees bent and closed reflexively. He moved back toward her and she began to spread her feet, opening herself up to him.

Rey was utterly and properly beautiful.

She was painted in shades of gold and pink and green, glowing like an unimpeded sunset. His breath caught in his throat at the sight of her, completely bared to him, completely _comfortable_ with him. This was a woman who loved and trusted him. His other half. About to become one in _every_ sense of the word.

“Rey,” he murmured, eyes fixated on her very center for a moment before finding those hazel eyes. “You’re...everything.”

Her expression, painted in pure seduction, softened at the sentimentality of his claim.

_You’re nothing...but not to me._

Ben fell to his knees in front of her, hands landing on her ankles. He pulled gently, dragging her across the bed, the old cotton blanket barely protecting her from its roughness. Her legs hung off the bed and he hooked his arms around her thighs, staring into that mesmerizing pink core of hers. He’d used up all his experience at this point. This was new territory for both of them. The thought should have made him more nervous than it did, but everything felt so _in tune._ The Force was hardly noticeable, a content purified energy in the atmosphere.

His eyes met hers once more.

They were wide and waiting, matching the noticeable rise and fall of her chest -- she knew _exactly_ what he was about to do. A sea of jealousy threatened to engulf him, but was just as quickly vanquished by the indescribable and absolute knowledge that _she had never done this before._ Her understanding of his intentions came from friends’ stories, maybe dreams…from the bridge that tethered their minds together.

Ben held her gaze as he slowly turned his head and placed a kiss to the inside of her thigh. Her shoulders tensed ever so slightly at the contact, and he kissed again. And again. And again, moving in a line _up._ Finally, he pulled away and looked at her.

His gaze darkened and his lips hung open, just a sliver. Then he hoisted her thighs up to rest on his shoulders and ducked his head between them.

Rey gasped loudly as her posture went rail straight, one hand flying into his hair and tightly gathering a fistful.

His tongue drew a line from her entrance up to that knot, which he then closed his lips around and sucked gently.

Her vision blurred a touch.

“Ben,” she panted.

He hummed lowly against the most sensitive part of her body and she contorted, mewling quiet and breathy nothings into the air. One of his massive hands left its grip on her thigh and found a new home, dipping one finger inside her. She gasped again at the foreign sensation, as her walls adjusted and hugged the intruder. And he began to move it. In and out of her, picking up pace as it synchronized with his tongue. The pulling inside her became so tight, so strained, she was afraid it might snap. But it just kept pulling.

Ben dragged his tongue slowly across her as he added a second finger. Rey groaned through closed lips at the stretch, her abdomen shivering uncontrollably with the near unbearable attention of his mouth.

The neck kissing was divine, and his lips on her breasts were next level, but this, _this_ was in a different league entirely. The team of his fingers and his tongue working to undo her felt as though every single nerve in her body was taken into warm, soft hands and stretched beyond imagination. The pulling from the little knot his mouth was attacking grew to a tightness Rey didn’t think possible, before tearing open and flooding every part of her with a warm, velvety deluge.

Her mouth fell open as if to cry out, but she remained silent. She shook hysterically as she came undone, and the waves coursed through her; heavy, wet, warmth filling her every nerve while the knot sparked and spasmed under Ben’s affections.

He looked up at her and smirked with a darkness in his eyes that threatened to make her lose herself again. His hair was in an absolute disarray from the grasping and groping of her fingers and his full, red lips were slick with her.

“Hmmnnh,” she mumbled, trying almost drunkenly to form the words her brain was screaming.

Ben’s smirk spread into a beautiful, _beautiful_ smile and brought his mouth against her again. He was gentle and slow, as if to ease her down from that sea of velvet and lightning swallowing her body. His eyes didn’t leave hers as his tongue and lips moved leisurely against her core.

It was the most venereal picture she’d ever seen.

She was suddenly overcome with desire, desperate to not only feel full of him again, but to watch him unwind, _make_ him unwind as she did. So she lurched forward, hands gripping his hair and tugging roughly to yank his head away. His eyes lit with something at her brashness, and it only egged her on. She pulled her legs from his shoulders and clambered to her knees. Her hands moved so her fingers hooked into the waistband of his pants and she _tugged._

Ben stumbled the one step to the bed before landing gracelessly on his knees on the pallet’s surface. Rey was tugging ferociously at the fastenings for his pants. He moved to help her, but as he raised his hand, she worked them open and shoved her hand in.

He sucked in a sharp breath as she gripped him. Her touch was electrifying, like all of his nerves had been concentrated in one sector of his body, locked tightly in a box, and she was wrenching that box open. Her hand started moving, up and down, gently but deliberately. He took a few deep breaths in sync with her unhurried stroking, eyes closed as if to center himself.

She was sending his mind into a tailspin. His hands found her hips and he dug his fingers in before opening his eyes.

She was watching him intently, eyes wide and mystified, a small, coy smile spread across her lips. The sight of her, looking at him like _that,_ drained the last of the blood from his brain. His hand shot out to snatch her wrist. Her face dropped.

“Am I…”

“Shh, no,” he assured her as he stepped off the bed, hands moving for the waistband of his pants. Rey’s eyes brightened with understanding.

Ben kicked off his boots, pushed the rain-drenched linen down past his knees and stepped out of the garment. Her eyes widened instantly.

He was...proportional.

The phantom feeling of his fingers stretching her came rushing back and her pulse quickened in the anticipation of _him._

He approached steadily, eyes raking over her with adoration. His hands slowly rose up her arms, brushing wild strands of hair away from her face before gently pushing her shoulders to guide her onto her back.

She laid down flat and he hovered over her, pressing a tender kiss to her forehead. She leaned into the affection with a sigh, eyelashes fluttering. He lowered himself further so their chests were plastered together, and the skin on skin feeling sent a chill down her spine. Her legs spread a little more as he pressed against her, sighing again at the feeling of his length, stiff against her core.

Ben cupped her cheek and gazed into her eyes. His face was a tender expression of genuine love and desire, but his eyes betrayed a glimmer of hesitation.

“Are you sure?” He whispered, thumb tracing a constellation of freckles across her cheekbones.

She reached up and wound her fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck.

“Yes.”

His touch abandoned her cheek with a gentle stroke, leaving a trail of tingles in its wake, and reached down to take himself in his hand. With one last glance in her hazel eyes, he positioned himself at her entrance and thrust forward. The slick brought about by her orgasm propelled the motion, and he slid in easily. She yelped at the sensation, and her walls clenched and spasmed in an effort to adjust to his size. Her eyes squeezed shut and a tear slipped out.

“Hey,” he cooed, hand smoothing her hair. “Are you okay?”

She nodded, eyes still tightly shut. He didn’t exactly believe her.

“I won’t move,” he offered, “not until you want me to.”

Her eyes opened and she just watched him a moment.

The galaxy held in place for them in this moment, only the sound of the pounding rain and the crackle of the fire drummed to accompany the way the air stilled around them.

She nodded.

“I’m okay.”

He smoothed her hair once more, pressed a kiss to her lips, and began to move.

Rey’s mouth dropped open as his hips took on a steady rhythm.

She felt the primal need to pull him closer, both against her and into her. Her legs worked their way around his waist and she locked her ankles at his back as her arms wound around his shoulders.

He pressed his face into her neck, kissing her skin and humming in that low, gravelly voice.

“Ben,” she breathed as his fingers dug into the skin of her hips.

The pace quickened.

The sounds of breathlessness and skin slapping joined the rain and fire in the hut’s accompaniment.

Rey panted over his shoulder, clawing at the skin on his back.

Ben sucked a bruise just above her collarbone before readjusting and hoisting her knee over his shoulder.

Her eyes flew open from the stretch and the new depths with which he reached her. Her breaths, already short and heavy, gained volume as a series of soft whimpers escaped her lips.

He watched her lose her composure like she was saving him from starvation.

He arched _just so_ and a wave of friction pressed against that sensitive little knot.

 _“Ben,”_ she gasped, eyes fluttering shut. A subtle groan emitted from his throat when she voiced his name. He quickened the rhythm and Rey arched impossibly further into him.

Their skin was plastered together with sweat and red from the angry friction.

All modesty was forgotten.

She scratched lines deep into his back.

He dug his fingers so deeply into her hips and thigh that they would certainly leave bruises.

The knot was pulling tight again -- not the same as the softness and flexibility of his lips and tongue -- but just as overwhelming and all-consuming. The feeling of being so full of him, of him holding her and taking her as she fell apart, it was unlike anything else.

Her vision spotted as Ben pushed her thigh against her chest, and with the next thrust, he hit a spot she didn’t know existed and the line snapped, releasing that same electric, velvet flood.

She groaned and her nails sunk into his shoulders as her walls clenched and she shook uncontrollably.

That did it for Ben.

He collapsed on her with a groan of his own, spilling into her.

Her legs tightened around his waist, holding him in place as he rode out the aftershocks.

Thunder boomed.

The fire crackled.

“I love you,” he wheezed into her neck. “Rey...I love you. I love you…”

Her chest rose and fell beneath his, their hearts beating both chaotically and in sync.

“I love you...Ben…” she responded breathlessly after a beat.

He rolled off of her and she ached at the absence of his warmth within her. But he looped his arms around her body and pulled her against him.

Everything felt right, felt at peace...like coming home.

The Force surrounded them like an embrace, holding them together and reinforcing the bridge between them. Two that were one.

Ben pressed a gentle, tired kiss to her forehead.

“Can I stay with you tonight?”

She angled to glance up at him, a lazy smile breaking across her sleepy face.

“Stay with me every night.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have never written smut before. So this was a challenge. I also wanted it to be a bit awkward since they're virgins.
> 
> Fair warning: as far as the slow burn goes, it is now doused in gasoline. So be prepared. (there is still a bunch of plot to get through, don't worry)
> 
> THANK YOU for reading once again!!


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rey and Ben practice. In their comfort and bliss, they miss the imminent danger they are putting themselves in...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is only like twenty percent plot, but that's fun, because you get more good stuff and it leads us back into plot for the next chapter.  
> A small warning: there is one section, I would not call it dubcon, but it is pretty rough as far as physical intimacy goes. If that's not your thing, you can skip, starting at "It must have been the cave" and pick back up at the next section break ( - )  
> ALSO check the end notes because I need your opinions on something!

Stillness.

All around them, pure, unadulterated stillness. Gil held his new, mechanical fist up to signal the Knights. Their trek halted and they each took a moment to observe their surroundings.

The impossible lighting beneath the Citadel was frozen in the air, crackling zipped out of the atmosphere into a vacuum.

Something had changed in the Force.

Something had tied together and absorbed its energy, now a solid, clear line.

Gil could feel Solo’s signature. He could only surmise it was him and the scavenger girl, given the near suffocating oneness, the  _ completeness  _ of the Force.

A grisly smile crept across the Knight’s face.

The pair didn’t even realize how loudly they were projecting their presence.

-

Rey chewed on her lip.

Her grip tightened on the windowsill.

Her knees ground into the thick padding of moss.

It was becoming increasingly hard not to squeal.

Ben laid on his back, mouth between her legs, hands anchoring her hips to his face in an iron grip. He looked so peaceful, eyes closed and calm as his lips and tongue lavished her core with lewd affections.

They hadn’t even been awake twenty minutes yet.

He’d left her side when he woke in the morning to return to his hut, wrapping himself in one of the old blankets and meandering out through the morning fog. He had left his clothes in a still damp pile.

Rey was just trying to return them.

She hadn’t meant to stare at the lines crossing his hips that disappeared into the blanket.

She hadn’t meant to hold his beguiling gaze once he caught her staring.

She  _ definitely  _ hadn’t meant to let her own blanket slip from her bare frame as they ogled each other.

But that had been the tipping point for him. He’d approached her, blanket forgotten, and hoisted her onto his waist before attacking her lips with his own and carrying her to his marginally more comfortable bed.

And there Rey squirmed atop him, overwhelmed by the attention he granted that little sensitive knot. It was genuinely too much. Without the penetrative fullness his fingers provided, all her nerves were concentrated in that tiny bud, and he was relentless. It was ticklish and dizzying, sending her mind into a different kind of frenzy than that of the previous night.

Her eyes squeezed shut and her lip slipped from beneath her teeth, releasing a high pitched _ah_ which broke the consistent muffled whoosh of the waves below.

“Ben,” she keened, seizing her opportunity, “stop. Stop, stop.” She swatted blindly at his forehead, earning a muffled laugh against her center before his lips pulled away with a crude smack. His arms eased her to a seat on his upper chest as he smiled lazily up at her, only a dash of the overbearing worry she was so used to present in his eyes.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

“Too much,” she panted, eyes mapping his full, wet lips. “I wanna…”

Her arm shot backward to seize him in a firm yet gentle grip, already stiff and wanting for her.

He inhaled sharply and his eyes shifted from something slack and contented to something wanton.

She scrambled back from her perch on his chest to hover over his lap, knees bracketing his hips as she angled his length toward her. He sat up to wrap his arms around her waist, and she sank down.

They sighed in tandem, shuddering at the exquisite feeling that belonged to them and them alone.

Rey maneuvered her hands to the tops of his shoulders and began to rise and fall on him, slowly and achingly. He exhaled breathily with each drag of her walls around him, watching her face like she was made of stardust and glowing like the sun. Such an expression filled her with contrasting emotions.

First, she found it purely endearing; a display of unfettered love and romance from a man who gave up everything for her.

Second, it made her want to  _ tear him apart  _ between her legs. She wanted to control him in every way, to make him writhe like he did so easily to her.

The second emotion screamed a bit louder in her mind.

Her hands slid from the tops of his shoulders to his chest, which she shoved back, pushing his obscenely large and sculpted torso to the awaiting moss. She replaced her hands on his chest and sunk her nails in, eliciting a hiss from him. He was watching her with that same gleam in his eye from the night before, when she yanked his head from her core by his hair. Like he was waiting for her to conquer him...like he wanted her to give into her darkness,  _ just  _ for him.

So she did.

Rey repositioned herself, feeling the press of him against her walls, and began to drag herself back and forth, rather than straight up and down on his length. Her vision began to spot immediately; the friction of his skin against the ever-tightening knot was unmatched. She groaned behind her teeth and picked up a feral speed in an instant.

Ben’s mouth fell open at her wild and brash pace, mind short-circuiting at the animalistic and imposing way she writhed on top of him. Her palms pressed abrasively into his chest, nails leaving small, stinging indents.

She threw her head back, eyes closed, teeth bared, and emitted a sort of  _ unnnnnggggff  _ sound. That was almost too much. His eyes rolled back and he issued a salacious sound of his own.

The pace skidded to a jerky halt when her walls clenched  _ tight  _ around him, knees mirroring the action against his hips. Ben’s eyes darted back to Rey, eager to watch her fall apart in  _ this  _ state.

She was loud this time.

_ Oh,  _ she was loud.

Her head was still angled back, mouth hanging open as her tensed shoulders raised by her ears and her body shook with the tremors of her ecstasy.

Ben melted at the sight. He just wanted to watch her fall, see this moment on a loop for the rest of his life. He also wanted to flip her onto her back, press her thighs against her chest and pound into her until she was wailing and clawing so deep into his skin, he bled. He wanted to be dark with her like  _ this. _

But this moment was bliss for her. And he didn’t want it to fade too quickly.

Placing his hands on her hips, he began to drag her back and forth across him, continuing the motions she couldn’t herself, as his hips rose and fell to pump in and out of her. The efforts he made caused her shoulders to shudder violently and her voice, now quieter, went up in pitch as she mewled needy and breathy nonsense into the air.

Ben huffed a satisfied breath as he watched her come down. She was so beautiful in the haze of the morning, hair a mess from what was left of her braid, freckled skin dewey with a thin sheen of sweat.

He wasn’t even concerned with seeking his own end. He would gladly do this any time of any day if she’d let him.

-

The effort stung.

Each of the Knights broke away, tired arms swinging to their sides.

“Are we sure this is possible?” Ushar panted.

“It has to be,” Gil gritted.

“It is,” Ap’lek interjected. He was always the most scholarly of them all. Maybe even more than Solo. Regardless, he was  _ careful.  _ The Twi’lek-human hybrid could talk a king into giving up his throne. “We’ll be able to directly access Ahch-To if we break through.”

He turned to Gil.

“Are we  _ sure  _ that’s where they are?”

A smile crept across his face beneath his mask.

“Without a doubt.”

-

Walking felt funny.

She underestimated how sore she would become, with all the practice they’d been doing.

And they’d been practicing  _ a lot. _

It was almost never intended; they fell into it gently, easily at night before they slept. She’d moved into his hut, the moss padding of his bed was too comfortable not to. And they’d become one at night in the light of the fire, slowly, sleepily, enough to feel the love they shared for each other as if they had all the time in the world. It was lazy and comfortable, and she slept like she’d never known a nightmare each time they finished.

Most of their practice, however, was borne of the heat of the moment. It was hard not to. With the way he looked at her  _ all the time,  _ she felt the urge to throw herself at him. This tension had been there  _ all along,  _ and now that they’d crossed the threshold, it was no holds barred, anything goes between them.

Usually it was training; their close proximity duels would escalate until one of them forfeited their saber to possess the other in a searing kiss, and things would spiral from there.

Two days prior, Rey’s insides were too tired and  _ begging  _ for a break after they’d woken up in a...state. But Ben looked at her as their blades clashed, and something passed over his eyes. He retracted his saber in an instant, and his hands took her face between them, bringing her lips against his with need. She responded, her knees growing weak and mind going dizzy. Her saber was discarded a moment later in favor of his unfairly beautiful hair. They kissed frantically, toppling over into the grass. His hands didn’t take long to wander, tracing every curve and line of her body with such tenderness, the growing heat within her fluttered and sighed at his endearing affections.

He rolled Rey onto her back and crawled over her, their lips still plastered together, and brushed his left hand up the inside of her right thigh before pressing a thumb against its terminus.

She jolted and hissed, the little knot and her tired walls protesting in a vulnerable exhaustion.

“Shit,” He panted, panicked as he pulled away. “Did I hurt you?”

“No, Ben, it’s...I’m just sore,” she breathed with a sheepish smile, the fluttering heat within her dampening in defeat.

“Oh,” he responded, leaning back. “We don’t have to…”

“I know...but...I’m…”

Her cheeks flushed and she chewed her lip, contemplating a thought that had been bouncing around her head since she saw  _ every inch  _ of him. The heat intensified within her, begging her to give it a try. To make him unwind and watch it happen. She shifted onto her knees.

“Stand up.”

Ben looked at her, eyes narrowed slightly. She could feel the brush of his mind against her own, of his cautious curiosity...which she shoved right back forcefully as a coquettish smile painted her lips. His eyes narrowed further, but he smirked, accepting her surprise, and stood.

“Closer,” she entreated with a gleam in her eye. He took another step, close enough that she could lean forward slightly to hug his legs if she so desired. She rose up on her knees, fingers reaching for his belt. His breath hitched as she undid it, and she stole a little glance at his face as she opened the metal clasp.

Ben was watching her with wide eyes, lips slightly parted. He understood perfectly what she was about to attempt.

The fastenings of his pants were easy. She reached in to find him stiff and straining against the fabric. He tensed under her touch. She smiled to herself.

She pulled him free of the linen’s confinements as her hand slid gingerly to the base.

She took a minute to eye him.

It still baffled her how he’d fit inside her.

But if that small, tight, warm pocket of hers could take him, so could her mouth.

Her lips slipped over him and slid as far down as they could, until she felt an uncomfortable press against the back of her throat.

Ben sucked in a sharp breath and tensed.

Her jaw felt odd.

She pulled her head away and back over him again, slowly, trying to prevent that disorienting discomfort again.

It was a strange sensation, taking him in her mouth. It didn’t exactly feel good for her. But the way Ben shivered under the drag of her lips and tongue emboldened her.

Maybe...if she just…

Pressing her tongue against the floor of her mouth, she opened her throat as if to drink a whole canteen of water in one swig. She launched her head forward, sliding him completely in, this time hollowing her cheeks to suction her mouth to him.

Ben released a little  _ ah  _ and she felt his fingers weave into her hair.

He reached the back of her throat again, and to her relief, the odd discomfort was only mild. She set a rhythm, slow at first, gaining comfort with this new and uncharted territory before she gradually gained speed.

The grip in her hair only tightened.

The breaths he panted became more audible.

She was concentrating, eyes closed, but how  _ desperately  _ those noises made her want to watch. Her eyes fluttered open and she glanced up at Ben.

His mouth was hanging open, hair in a disarray, eyes squeezed shut. It spurred some low, velvety voice from within the heat of her.  _ Yes. _

Her lips sucked a bit harder and she hummed.

Ben’s eyes flew open to find her gazing up at him through her lashes with wistful eyes. Her lips were pink and glistening around him and the  _ feeling  _ those lips gave him...everything came to a head.

“Rey...Rey, can I-”

Too late.

He exhaled breathily as he released into her mouth, a wash of relief and warmth coursing through his body. She clung to him still, eyes widening in startled surprise as her lips continued to work.

_ Fuck.  _

She took all of him.

Every last drop.

Rey finally released him with a pop and a ragged inhale as she fell back onto her heels and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.

“I’m sorry,” Ben panted. “I should have asked you...you know...if it was...okay-”

“It was,” she smiled. “I didn’t mind at all.” Her smile faltered a hair, tainted by a sliver of vulnerability. “Was it...good? For you?”

“Are you kidding?” He shoved himself back into his pants and fell to his knees before her. “Sweetheart, that was incredible.”

She chuckled bashfully as his arms looped around her waist and he pulled her into a kiss. Tasting himself on her tongue.

“I’ve just,” she murmured when they broke apart, “I’ve never done that before.”

“Rey, neither have I.”

She’d practiced it since then. It was the strangest thing she’d ever done, always a little uncomfortable, but the reaction she elicited from him was so worth the awkwardness. It made her feel powerful.

Now she ambled up the stone steps, the waddle in her step only enhancing the throb between her legs from the culmination of the previous night and that very morning.

She reached the top, huffing a tired breath as she shuffled to the temple’s entrance.

Ben’s back faced her as he sat peacefully in the center of the open room, in silent mediation. A serene, quiet energy of tranquility and respite painted the walls of the temple, radiating from every atom in his body.

“Be with me,” he murmured.

Rey stifled her small gasp as a wash of understanding permeated her heart.

Oh, how much he had changed since they met.

She smiled to herself and backed away from the temple silently, leaving Ben to find his place within the Force.

-

“This place...it’s powerful.”

It wasn’t clear whether Gil was talking to himself or the Knights.

This vast space they had been wandering...that they had entered who knows how...it stretched on, seemingly forever.

Edgeless, endless black was scaled down only by the thin white lines marking place, direction, like stardust. Intangible.  _ Ancient. _

This was a place Palpatine had searched for.

They all knew it, they all hosted a segment of his essence.

Soon they would return here.

With a wholly possessed Rey Nemina.

To reap the limitless power of the Force this mystic plane held.

-

Ben darted into the rocky outcropping, saber swinging at his side. His eyes roved over the area, searching for Rey-

_ Splash. _

His gaze snapped to the source of the sound; a perfect hole carved in the ground, some sort of ominous, black seaweed creeping over the edges like hands clawing their way up from a grave. It sent a chill down his spine.

The cave.

But this was where Rey had chosen to take their duel today, which had turned more into a chase; a parallel of their first encounter in the forest on Takonda. And how the tables had turned...she had the upper hand, enticing and devilish in the chase she gave, while he had relaxed and given into the blithe Solo genes he’d fought for so long, determined to find her and win their duel simply so he could lord it over her.

So he ran to the gaping edge and leapt.

The water was dark and cold.

He broke the surface, catching a deep breath of clean, cold air. His head swiveled about as he treaded water, searching for the golden glow of her saberstaff in the dim light. She must have turned it off, wherever she was hiding, waiting to ambush him. The white glow of his own saber illuminated the water surrounding him, as if in a protective halo, as he swam toward a rocky ledge.

He climbed atop the surface and shook some of the chilled water from his hair before standing to find an odd wall...hazy, ethereal, and reflective. A mirror, spanning an entire face of the cave. The sounds of the water moving from the channel and the ocean outside ceased and were overcome by gentle whispers. Promises. Something he  _ needed. _

Rey had been here. This was where she sought her parents and found...herself. Alone. Which prompted her to seek him.

Ben took an uncertain step closer to the wall. His reflection was hazy, more a shadow than a direct mirror image of himself. The whispers grew louder.

_ She’s in danger… _

_ Come near… _

_ You can ensure her safety… _

His brows furrowed. This was a trap. It had to be, right? Or a test...this island  _ was  _ a place of significance to the Jedi...perhaps this was a test to resist the dark side?

A wild cry ripped Ben from his reverie and he spun to find a dripping wet Rey, mid-leap from who knows what high ground, saberstaff ignited and raised to strike.

He smirked and reared his own back, preparing to meet her blow with force.

She landed and their sabers clashed in a blinding blaze, energy and strength matched as usual.

“Distracting, isn’t it?” She quipped with a mischievous smile.

“What a plan,” he teased. “Distraction doesn’t work so well when you announce your presence like that.”

They pulled apart and swung right back, the left blade of Rey’s saberstaff locking into that tricky junction of the crossjet.

“Yeah, but it’s so much  _ fun.” _

They pulled apart again and continued their usual dance, matched at every swing, throwing little barbs at each other when their eyes met...it was  _ harmonious. _ As they moved and clashed, their signatures blended seamlessly, eventually smoothing into a perfect line, one soul between two bodies.

The harmony snapped when Rey unwittingly planted a stabilizing foot on a loose pebble, which robbed her of her balance. She fell back with a surprised yelp, catching herself in an awkward seat as her elbows landed to keep her shoulders upright, saberstaff scattering to the ground a couple feet away. Ben advanced upon her, pointing his lightsaber directly at her chest, having claimed the victory.

His eyes were dark and intense, and something shifted within Rey.

“There he is,” she murmured lowly.

His arm slackened slowly as his brows pinched in confusion.

“You’ve been so gentle,” she clarified with narrowed eyes, wildly emboldened by who knows what as her bent knees began to spread apart. “I keep waiting for that darkness to surface.  _ Just for me.” _

It must have been the cave. A place with dark, forbidden energy, and Rey was embracing it, imploring Ben to embrace it too.

He retracted his saber and let it drop to the ground, eyes fixed on her as he fell to his knees and crawled over her. Rey’s eyes were so  _ dark,  _ so coy and sly as they bore into his own. He caught a flash of an image in her mind, of them entangled in one another, hands in dangerous places, scratches and bruises painting their bodies...it would be a concerning image if it weren’t for the feeling it was rooted to: _ trust.  _

She wanted his darkness.

She could have it.

Ben rose on his knees so he loomed over her. His hands found the front of her shirt and he tore it open, causing her jaw to slacken in anticipation. His prosthetic hand made its way to the back of her neck, which he gripped with a possessiveness as he pulled her willing body closer to him.

“Give me your darkness, Ben,” she whispered salaciously,  _ needily. _

In a snap response his hand flew from her neck to the braid covering it and he  _ yanked. _

Her head jerked back with a shocked gasp and his mouth dropped to her exposed neck, lips hovering just over the naked skin.

_ “Shhh,”  _ he commanded before grazing his teeth over her throat. “Don’t speak, sweetheart.”

Ben could not keep the sliver of endearment from his words, despite their low and chilling tone. He was never able to go _completely_ dark, no matter how hard he tried.

Rey on the other hand...she was feral. A low, inhuman growl rumbled from her throat as he roughly sucked and bit the pulse point of her neck. He felt a challenge in the sound.

They were still dueling.

Using his size and purely human strength to his advantage, he took control of her slender form; he wrapped her braid once around his hand before pulling tighter, causing her neck to strain further as he shoved the heel of his left hand between her thighs.

She groaned a sound of both lust and exasperation at his abrasive touch and he removed his angry mouth from her neck, intent on watching her darkness surface for him.

She didn’t disappoint. Her teeth were bared and her eyes glowed with something wild and unstable, the flecks of green and gold mixing in a chaotic light.

The weight of her fell into his right hand as she wrenched her elbows from the ground. Ben softened a moment to catch her, and it was exactly what she needed.

Her hands shot to his throat, wrapping around it and squeezing  _ just enough _ to give him a taste of what she wanted.

His pants were suddenly  _ painfully  _ tight.

They were wearing too many clothes, he realized.

He tore his hand from her hair, jerking her head along with his aggressive motions as his fingers moved to tear at her belt and pants.

Her fingers tightened around his throat as she supported her weight on the grip.

The low slosh of restless water in the dark cave was quickly joined and overcome by the frenzied mix of heavy breaths and furious grunts and fabric tearing.

She was kicking her boots off beneath him as he ripped the shredded linen from her legs. The grip around his throat was going straight to his groin and he needed to  _ do  _ something about it.

Without warning, Ben shoved a finger into her. On his right hand. Plated in metal. She released a lewd sound at the sensation, eyes closing as her head fell back. Ben smirked to himself.

He was winning. 

He added a second finger quickly, already setting a vigorous pace. She was not wet enough for what he was doing to her. And yet...he knew that was exactly what she wanted. She continued her wanton song, hands shifting from their vice-like grip around his neck to dig into the meat of his shoulders.

Yeah, he was _ definitely  _ winning.

As if she heard his triumphant thought, her head snapped back upright to meet his gaze with narrowed eyes. She huffed in frustration then launched forward, shoving her calloused palms against the fronts of his shoulders to topple him over. He was late to fight back, too caught up in the storm of her eyes. And...not that he would admit it to himself, but a little jolt of excitement shot through him at the prospect of her violent control.

She pounced on him, her cold, bare form of freckles and muscle straddling his lap so she hovered over him, like a predator. He wouldn’t make it easy for her, though. His arms locked as his hands pushed into the ground behind him, bracing his upright position against her efforts.

She growled lowly at his easy resistance and eyed him, searching for a new mode of attack. Her fingers curled into the wet linen of his shirt and she  _ ripped  _ it open, tugging the fabric from his wide torso. She fumbled with his belt then in her wild haste, eventually working it apart and continuing her ferocious disrobing of him as he just watched, completely enraptured by her loss of control. There was a dangerous, unstable beauty to it, a unique shade of her that he had to take carefully lest he become hopelessly addicted.

Their duel had lost momentum, he realized. Now  _ painfully  _ exposed, he hands dug into her waist and he yanked her body down on him, growling in animalistic satisfaction as she yelped and clenched desperately around him.

_ Crack. _

Her flattened palm whipped across his face, forcing his head to the side with a blinding sting.

His brain tumbled about aimlessly in his skull, scrambling to regain stability as his grip loosened and pawed at her waist. Had he crossed a line? Rey dashed that worry before he could dwell on it a second longer, as she dragged herself up and down on his length.

The dots faded from his eyes and his thoughts regained their solidity as his head turned back to face her.

She was watching him with a wicked, vampish, triumphant grin that twisted the sting of her slap into something vulgar and perverse.

“Do that again,” he dared her with an equally wicked grin.

The back of her hand came sailing across the other cheek with a resounding  _ smack,  _ its whipping sting punctuated by the painful punch of her bony knuckles against him. He gasped at the assault, the heat of its impact in this dark and twisted state they shared emboldening him to a darkness he was afraid he might lose his mind to.

Rey’s fingers squeezed his shoulders, an encouragement.

_ I trust you. _

He wrenched her off his lap and flipped her around, on her hands and knees. She gasped at the speed of the maneuver and barely had a moment to regain her balance before his hands covered her hips and he  _ yanked  _ her back onto him.

The sound she released at his entry cast a drunken haze over his sense of control. He moved. Quickly. Aggressively. Their skin slapped convulsively. He could feel himself punching a wall inside her with each angry thrust. Her back arched and she groaned  _ such  _ a terrifying, lovely sound.

Still, that sliver of light slipped through; his hands smoothed up and down her hips, her waist, her back, tugged playfully on her braid in contrast to the relentless speed with which he took her.

It was only a handful of moments, smothered with the sounds of their gravelly groans and growls, their wet skin meeting crudely and quickly, before he couldn’t take it anymore and he exploded into her with a ragged sigh.

Ben’s upper body collapsed onto her back, his forehead pressed against her neck as he gave her every ounce of his darkness, every pulse, every aftershock into the warmth of  _ her. _

When he was drained completely, the light engulfed him and he pulled himself out in haste, scrambling to collect her tired body in his arms and soothe her bruises.

“Too much?” He asked softly.

“No. Perfect,” she panted, twisting so her head wedged between his neck and shoulders. “I love how gentle and careful you are with me, Ben. I just want you to be able to lose yourself sometimes. Don’t bottle it all up.”

She glanced up at him with a heavenly expression, a dash of that dark coyness still glazing her eyes.

“You know I can take it.”

-

The wall became clearer and clearer the closer the Knights edged.

The blackness disappeared and faded into this...this  _ mirror… _

Only...they did not see their reflections. No, beyond this strange, foggy wall, was the implication of stone and water, of rushing darkness spreading out into the light of day, into an ocean...a place of sacred significance. Two figures, cast in shadow, intertwined…

_ Ahch-to.  _

-

He’d been in the temple a while.

Ben’s meditation practices had grown longer and more resonant in the past several days, which brought Rey immense joy and comfort. He seemed to be forgiving himself finally, surrendering more fully to the will of the Force than any obsession with legacy.

But this hour...it was abnormal. Too long he’d been up there.

Perhaps it was her fault, she considered with a pang of guilt.

She’d roused the darkness out of him in the heat of the moment, and he’d given it all to her. And with such  _ control.  _ But maybe...maybe he felt like he was losing himself to it again.

No.

She was overthinking things.

It was very controlled between them. They were working on the mastery of dark and light; when to use one over the other, when to blend them seamlessly...their tryst in the cave had meant to serve as a release of any pent-up darkness. A practice of trust.

But he might have felt guilt over it...over her bruises...over the bit of blood he’d drawn from between her legs...but she’d wanted it.  _ And  _ returned it.

She was overthinking things.

Right?

Rey’s jumbled, anxious thoughts accompanied her all the way up the stone steps to the temple. She paused a moment to watch the sky. The last of the two suns' rays were casting the island in an unnatural red...not their usual deep gold.

Something about the suns’ hue didn’t sit quite right with her.

She frowned and lingered a moment longer before completing the last few steps to the temple.

It was dim beyond the entrance, only the faintest hints of that ominous red sunlight illuminated the stone walls. She inched further, preparing to call out Ben’s name when a bright, whirring glow spun across the cave within the frame of the archway.

“Ben?” Rey called, rushing across the threshold. Her attention was drawn immediately to the white glow of his saber, lighting up his figure as it stalled and turned to give her his attention.

Ben had been practicing forms in the grand structure.

It was strange. He never practiced forms  _ here,  _ the temple was where they meditated and occasionally talked to Luke. Training and forms were performed on the various levels of the island, outside in the open. And yet…

“What are you…” she stepped closer, squinting into the exceptionally bright glow of a white kyber blade to find...it wasn’t just one blade.

It was two.

In his left hand, Ben held his grandfather’s lightsaber.

Understanding seeped into her in a rush, and she looked at his face.

“Oh Ben…” she breathed. “Did you find him?”

A small smile broke across his features.

“I think I did.”

She took in the man she loved, standing tall and proud, gripping his own lightsaber and Anakin Skywalker’s, like they were part of him. A whole, complete energy radiated from his form, and pride swept over Rey.

Something gleamed in his eye, something meant just for her that she couldn’t exactly place. She didn’t need to. She understood enough.

The last red sliver of sunlight vanished from the ancient stone walls.

And then it all came to a violent, abrupt halt.

Something in the energy of the Force snapped and became unstable.

A familiar voice, enticing and chilling, overtook the island’s retreating sounds.

_ Too late… _

_ You’re too late… _

_ Run.  _

Ben’s face fell.

Rey’s followed suit.

They both knew the grim truth of their reality.

Eyes still locked on Ben’s, Rey reached over her shoulder to retrieve her saberstaff, brightening the cave in a warm yellow glow to join the harsh white and soft blue.

He nodded once at her, and they both turned for the temple’s entrance, leaving its sacred safety for the darkness of the waking night.

The sea warred with itself in the angry, deep whooshes of its waves.

Dark storm clouds approached the island to deepen its ominous shroud.

Rey and Ben stood at the cliff’s edge, staring down at the rocky outcropping meters and meters and meters beneath them. From the gaping black mouth of the cave emerged six near imperceptible shadows, all faintly illuminated by varying strips of red kyber glow.

The Knights of Ren had found them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CLIFFHANGER!
> 
> Okay, so just a few updates about my future writing on this site. Up next, I will be working on the little sequel to this, but as I work on that, I'm also gonna start my first AU. My issue is I have a few AU ideas and I can't settle on one, so I'm curious which you most want to read first!  
> We have:  
> 1980s politics AU (songfic based on Vampire Weekend's "Diplomat's Son")  
> \- Leia Organa is the American Ambassador to England in the very early 1980s, where she moves with her husband Han and son (profession TBD) Ben. They grow close with the Erso-Andor family (Parliament member Jyn, professor Cassian, and university student daughter Rey). This takes place the same time as the Brixton riot, so there will be history, politics, good music, angst, and secret and complicated love.
> 
> Marvelous Mrs. Maisel AU  
> \- In 1960s New York, Rey finds a natural talent for stand-up comedy after her husband of two years leaves her. In a world where being a woman on your own still goes against the grain of society, Rey must juggle the expectations of her family, the gradual takeoff of her unconventional career, and the affections of the tall, dark, and handsome comedian who has taken her under his wing.
> 
> Fantasy AU  
> -loose plot TBD. It's supposed to be sort of Witcher based, because I like those characters, but I'm not an expert on that universe, so I'll be sort of cutting and pasting Witcher elements with general fanatsy elements and things I make up. Regardless, it will be magical, sexy, and violent.
> 
> Those are my big ones at the moment.  
> Note about the real world AUs: in these stories, Rey is always the daughter of Jyn and Cassian. Idk why, I just really like that idea for stories in real life settings. Also, in these stories, everybody's Jewish. We will be celebrating Hanukkah instead of Christmas.  
> Just let me know in the comments which one you're most interested in reading first, and I'll get to work!  
> Thank you SO MUCH for sticking with this story. Your comments and kudos mean the world to me.  
> Stay safe out there and wash your hands!


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A crossroads...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I AM SO SORRY FOR THE UNANNOUNCED HIATUS  
> I genuinely did not intend for it to happen. Nonetheless, it did, and to those who have been enjoying my story, I am so sorry.  
> Finishing school during COVID 19 yielded less free time than I had anticipated, on top of job interviews, securing a job (yay), moving, and starting work. I really hope you guys are doing well considering the circumstances. I must confess I've been sucked back into other fandoms too, with all the Netflix I watched while moving in.  
> BUT I intend to finish this story. I'm pushing forward and I still plan on writing the second installment. I ~might~ put the AU on hold because I'm sort of wrapped up in Avatar: The Last Airbender at the moment, and something may come of that. No promises though! But I have not given up on Reylo and I hope you enjoy the story as I continue it.  
> Again, I'm sorry for my absence, and thank you for sticking with this :)

It didn’t take long for the rain to engulf the island. It was cold and abrasive, angry at the disruption of the harmony which had settled over the rocky isle since Ben and Rey’s union. They sprinted down the cliffside in tandem, blind from the suffocating darkness of evening and the rough curtains of precipitation.

Ben could only roughly make out the twin golden glows of her saberstaff, swinging with her running form ahead of him.

He could sense her, though. Her fear and anxiety were palpable across the frantic bridge of their minds and soul. But something unsettled him further. A voice louder than fear or anxiety, screaming from the command post of her subconscious.

Anger.

Bordering on rage.

And that made Ben afraid. How  _ desperately  _ he had wished for this in the past, for her to yield to the darkness in her nature. Something he could never fully commit to himself.

Now, he yearned for nothing more than for her to miraculously keep the loose grasp she likely didn’t know she had on it.

Anger could be a tool, yes. But that would require control, and Rey simply had not mastered that yet.

_ She is not ready for this. _

Ben shook his head as he ran, trying to ignore the persistent fear prying at his consciousness.

_ You know she isn’t. _

Whose voice could this even be now? Was it just his own doubt?

_ You will lose her. _

No. No, it would not come to that. It  _ couldn’t.  _ He wouldn’t allow it.

He trailed Rey down the final steps, rounding that ominous jagged corner which implied the threshold for the cave’s real estate. The rain-blurred image of his grim reality was clarified somewhat by the collection of six red kyber glows, wielded by six barely distinguished shadows.

Rey did not wait for him.

She launched forward with a feral cry, saberstaff twirling around her limber frame in an unfittingly sunny blaze. He hurried after her, vision spotting from the surge of her rage rattling their connection.

“Rey,” he shouted, a plea.

It fell on deaf ears. The threatening buzz of kyber weapons clashing joined the roar of the rain as red met yellow in a blinding, fiery blaze.

She was already out of control. Despite the mastery of her motions, both natural and practiced, the rage was overwhelming her grasp on her actions. It wasn’t the first time; she had succumbed to her emotional instincts in the throne room, when they tore down the Praetorian Guard together. She’d had even less training and world weariness at the time, and yet...she was still herself. She had worked in tandem with her rage.

This was something else.

He could hardly sense  _ her  _ at this point, only the glaring reds of her anger. It was as if she had wrapped herself in a cocoon of fury and allowed it to drive her forward, her consciousness asleep until who knows when. It was a lack of control he had never seen.

And Ben could not stifle the portentous feeling of finality that accompanied her wrath.

By the time his blade clashed with one of the red lightweapons he had yet to discern, Rey had already overpowered two of the Knights and was advancing upon them with a powerful spin of her staff.

He shoved the opponent he’d finally identified as Trudgen off before sprinting to Rey’s side to protect her blind spot, just in time to fend off the unbearable sting of Cardo’s lightwhip. The red kyber whip coiled around his white blade, and he used the compromised position to yank Cardo toward him, where the Knight’s torso met his awaiting foot.

Ben could hear the air leave Cardo’s lungs as he kicked him away, the whip unraveling and following suit. This bought him a second to aid Rey. 

He could hear her frustrated grunt as he spun around to assess her condition. She was bent over Gil, right end of her saberstaff pressing into his lightaxe, meeting an impressive resistance aided by his new prosthetic arm.

The artificial appendage sent a chill down Ben’s spine. It was so unlike his own; sharp, skeletal, truthfully death-like...despite its phantom-like appearance, he knew Gil possessed a previously untouched level of strength.

The Knight shoved against Rey, sending her stumbling back into Ben’s chest. He instinctively looped an arm around her waist, overcome by the urge to protect her. She tensed in his embrace, for only a moment, before leaning into his familiar frame.

_ I’ve got you. _

Gil was climbing, slowly, almost drunkenly to his feet.

Rey’s saberstaff was pointed at him, defensively, waiting for a reason to strike. Her rage had slowed.

Ben held her tight and glanced around, his own saber raised to fend off any attack from behind.

The Knights had gathered themselves from Rey’s initial charge and were now standing in a circle, closing in on the pair. Their weapons were held almost casually at their sides. It was clear they were waiting for the signal from Gil.

He had removed his helmet, revealing that deceptively non-threatening human face. But something had changed. He was paler, sickly looking; his cheeks were hollowed unnaturally and the shadows beneath his eyes conveyed a man who had likely never known sleep. It was as though he were...withering.

That didn’t unsettle Ben as much as the lightaxe, slack in a loose grip at his side, and the calm,  _ knowing  _ expression lighting his gaunt face. Something felt wrong...like a trap…

“You’re an idiot, Solo,” he chuckled darkly. Rey strained angrily against his arm, seeking to defend her partner. Her reaction seemed to egg Gil on further. “Rey.  _ Rey.  _ I love that fury, you have to know that.”

“Fuck off,” she spat.

“Save that anger for later, scavenger, we’ll need it.”

Ben’s insides contorted. This is what he vowed he’d  _ die  _ to prevent. They were skirting far too close to the edge of it becoming reality.

“You’re wondering how we found you, right? How we got here?”

Neither answered.

“This planet... _ Ahch-To... _ it’s tethered to Exegol. Equals in light and dark, as far as planets go. And their tether, their...bridge? A place of  _ untapped  _ power in the Force, a place beyond time and space...a world between worlds.”

It couldn’t be true.

The World Between Worlds was a myth, a great mystery akin to Mortis itself. Few individuals were rumored to have accessed it throughout the galaxy’s history. One of them had even been his grandfather’s apprentice...but Ben never truly believed it to be real. Even if it were, it wasn’t something that could simply be  _ accessed. _

But...strange truths had been revealed through his connection to Rey, and the Knights were  _ here.  _ No ship. Emerged from the cave. The same cave that held a presence and a knowledge, both frightening and unknown.

So how did the Knights know they were…

“You two  _ project,  _ let me tell you.”

No. 

“Like I said,” he continued, focusing on Ben, “idiot. You never were careful. Far too emotional, far too passionate...the soft  _ Ben Solo.” _

“And  _ you’re  _ supposed to be careful?” He retorted. “The sociopath, the arrogant  _ Gil Exum?” _

Gil’s mouth twisted from the maniacal grin to an indignant line.

He had struck a wound, he knew it. Gil had spent his life as Ben knew it trying to eradicate his family name. It was one of the few things they had connected over as younger men. But it was different with Gil...no matter what Ben did to sever himself from his name, his  _ legacy,  _ he still yearned for his family. He spent his twenties denying it, but it was a truth that he would freely admit now. He tried to run, to avoid.

Gil, on the other hand, sought to snuff it out completely. To remove the Exum name from the entirety of the galaxy. He would never understand what Ben finally did.

_ You cannot deny the truth that is your family. _

“There’s something elevated about you two,” Gil continued, low and solemn.

Rey shoved Ben’s arm away and stepped forward. He tensed, fearing what she would do, fearing what might happen to her, but she only held her saberstaff at her side and squared her shoulders, staring the Knight down.

“You’ve lost,” she hissed. “You’ll always lose to us. He will never be yours.  _ I  _ will never be yours.”

A chill ran down Ben’s spine.

She wasn’t talking to Gil.

She was talking to Palpatine.

It was powerful, formidable,  _ beautiful... _ there was a blanket of control cast over her anger now, something reminiscent of her rage in Snoke’s throne room. The blend of her feral upbringing and the grace with which she harnessed it.

The air held still as they awaited a response from the Knights, verbal or physical.

And that dark, sick smile crept across Gil’s face again.

“Rey Nemina,” he voiced, stretching her name out as if confirming some unspoken thought. The dormant sinking feeling Ben had felt since their arrival gained gravity within him. “Do you know why the Force chose  _ you?” _

No.

“I don’t need to,” she snarled.

“Ah, but you want to, don’t you?”

_ No. _

Her arm shot up, saber whirring menacingly with the jerky motion. The tip of her golden blade hovered inches from Gil’s throat, just beneath his chin.

He  _ laughed. _

“Such darkness in you.”

Her rigid arm held fast.

“You know your parents were nobody, right? No Force sensitivity, no nobility or legacy in any known system. Nobody.”

“I don’t care.”

“Don’t you?  _ Dom  _ and  _ Balin.  _ They knew how to fight, I’ll give you that. I supposed they had to, in order to defend you. The nobody imbued with rare, raw power in the Force.”

“Shut up.”

Rey’s arm began to tremble.

“Why you, then? Why  _ nobody?  _ To usher in a balance? Balance is unsustainable. This tug of war between the Republic and the Empire, the New Republic and the First Order...war is a cycle. Balance is a  _ lie.” _

_ “Shut up.” _

The sinking feeling was suffocating. He was getting to her.

“No, you were born, you were chosen to set things  _ right,  _ to give rise to the power of the Emperor. How else do you think he’s held on all these years, even through death?” Gil took a microscopic step closer, inching toward her already  _ dangerously  _ close blade. “What other reason would the Force have to usher in your existence? The purposeless child of purposeless parents. Without this destiny, you have no reason to exist. You are  _ nothing.” _

_ “I SAID SHUT UP.” _

He couldn’t take it anymore. She was losing control. He took a step toward her, reaching a hand toward her trembling shoulder.

“Rey-”

In the matter of the following ten seconds, Ben’s world was torn apart.

She  _ whirled  _ around with a growl, saberstaff swinging around her body defensively. He froze as the right blade of her staff came level with his face, positioned to strike, positioned to kill. Her face was contorted in unfettered rage and pain, eyes on fire in the faint glow of her weapon.

She almost struck him down.

And she realized it immediately.

Her face dropped, eyes blowing wide in guilt and shock, like she was coming back to herself after an out of body experience. 

Ben did not feel betrayed. But he had never experienced so much fear in his life. Not for himself, but for her.

But Rey...she was resolutely broken, drowning in the guilt of her loss of control. Her trembling hands lowered her staff hazily, as if her body were in a slow and intangible trance. Her eyes were glossed with mortified tears, and she began to stutter.

“I…I didn’t…I didn’t mean…Ben, I’m-”

Her frantic stammering was cut off with a sharp gasp.

Gil was behind her.

One hand on her shoulder.

The tip of a dagger protruding from her stomach.

Ben stared for a second, somehow unable to connect the dots right away. Rey’s face had morphed into something of silent shock. He looked in her wide, disbelieving eyes, at her opened mouth, at the blade emerging from her abdomen.

It didn’t hit him until the blood started to seep.

Gil stabbed Rey.

Gil  _ stabbed Rey. _

Ben began stammering objections as her knees gave out. The vision of her falling, wilting like a flower in the cold as she clutched clumsily at the wound, turned blurrier and redder with each passing nanosecond.

He lunged forward, overwhelmed by rage and grief. He was going to literally rip Gil apart, or catch Rey, or...or both? It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered in this moment besides saving Rey’s life and utterly destroying the ones who were trying to end it. He didn’t even need his saber. His blood was growing so hot and vile, he could use his hands to-

_ Thwack. _

A searing pain ripped through depths of his back, radiating from a diagonal slash across his shoulder blades. The momentum of the lightwhip’s lash threw him off his feet and he stumbled onto the rocky ground. The pain mocked him, causing his head to throb and his vision to double and pulse as he grasped desperately, almost drunkenly for control.

He could not let Rey die. He could not let them take her. It simply wasn’t an option.

Ben grunted as he pushed himself up from the ground, his arms wobbly from the delirium of the ringing pain. He blinked strained as he lifted his head, its weight somehow so much more unbearable. The glossed, swimming blur of his vision focused as best it could on Rey.

She was slumped forward, conscious, limply clutching the wound that continued to bleed. She looked so...defeated. Gil’s arms were looped around her ribcage, holding her against him like she was nothing.

The sight made Ben’s vision instantly red.

He could feel his blood boil and rage as his pulse rushed in protective fury. He surged forward, forcing himself to his feet. The throbbing in his head worsened as he rose, adding the tenstation of tilting and whirling and he stumbled forward with an incoherent grunt.

Rey’s head lifted to meet his eye.

Despair and rage were suddenly at war for command of his emotions.

Her face was crestfallen; a heartbreaking mix of pleading, fear, and guilt.

_ Don’t leave me, please. _

_ I don’t know what to do. _

_ I’m sorry, Ben. _

Ben stumbled toward her, pushing through the increasing pulse and throb within his skull. He reached a hand out for his love.

And Gil turned. He met Ben’s eye, the default, maniacal smirk spreading across his lips. He tucked Rey backwards with him, her limp feet dragging along the ground after her.

“Thank you, Ben,” he mocked. “We couldn’t have found her without you.”

He pulled Rey tighter against him, and fell back.

Into the cavern.

Time seemed to slow

Rey’s hand flew up, reaching for Ben. He dove forward to catch it, to connect to his other half and take her away from the Knights, away from this place, away from the horrors of the galaxy. He’d take her place. He’d die for her.

The blinding pain that had shaken him so only moments before returned, this time stinging across his shoulder, dangerously close to his neck.

He collapsed with a pained roar, Rey’s fingers barely brushing his own as him arm dropped.

His vision began to blacken as Rey and Gil continued to fall, through the circular gate of the cavern and out of his sight completely.

As they disappeared into the dark water below, the world slipped away from him, and he blacked out.

Alone, unconscious, numb.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not my best chapter tbh? On top of all the shit going on as mentioned before, I had big time writer's block with this.  
> As far as the tone of this chapter goes, I'm sorry. BUT it's always darkest before the dawn..........


End file.
